Swordshine

It’s swordshine day. My gaze is brightly blind.
He, who I cross, from swordlight fiercely dies.
I leak my soul along the swordbanks of my mind.

I know no more the colour of your eyes.

There’s Christmas

There’s Christmas tapping on my door,
I’m on the floor, I’m on the floor;
I vaguely hear people pace;
I search for trace, I search for trace,
I’m looking for your footprints, dear;
They feel so near, they feel so near,
The footprints that my sentience cleft
The day you left, the day you left.

Snow

It snows. The misty calm engulfs the colors slain.

It snows the petals of the age we’re far apart.

I hope

we’ll never be so close again.

You’re still

too very deep inside my heart.

Silent

Crawling crawling in the grooves,
Distant distant distant hooves,
Creeping creeping creeping blight,
Silent silent silent night.

Shiv’ring branches, mould beneath,
Sabre whispers out of sheath,
Muffled thumping, wheezing breath;
Silent silent silent death.

The Open Color of His Eyes

I sauntered past; I had a farthing.
He sat alone.  I asked him why.
He said: ‘Today I’ve eaten nothing.
‘I obviously plan to die.’

I cried: ‘But death is so sinister!
‘Let’s go and eat! It’s me who’ll buy.’
He smiled and died that very instant.
A rainbow darted to the sky.