The Un-title-able

For too long I have absorbed.

Here in this moonlight. I still see colour.

I breathe. I create.

There is no romantic breeze

No perfumed candles.

But I yield to your power

Gentle power.

In your trance.

So what am I to you?

Anything you can want

Shape me in your moment of creative bliss.

I can’t see the past

All I know is you.

Lines without coherence

Shapes that mean nothing

In the moonlight there’s less to see

More to feel

More that flows without looking back

In your power.

The sky has such a bright nose stud

And a mole on her leeward side.

This reality is constructed.

I constructed it.

Free flow

These shapes…

Stars are moles

Trees make pretty silhouettes

My pen reflects the moonlight.

The door ajar.

For too long I have absorbed

Can I flow?

Neck stretched to see the sky

Eyes closed I see anyway

Some mosquitoes want to

Enter immortality

My words

Freedom is to sit

Not knowing what you just wrote

And still write on;

Is to breathe without

Chains from the past

Off with the hooks attached

To my back.

I sink into a bath.

Meaningless.

Do you believe in science or

Wilder imaginations?

Self absorbed humans.

Written in the moonlight.

Now no more flow.

Is this not my medium?

Let me fly

Cancel time.

This isn’t craft.

This a form of freedom

An attempt, rather.

Inhibited.

Give me wings and let me fly

Or I’ll grow them for you

With you.

Is the night sky deep blue?

Or is it just me?

Impatience.

I look back in bright light

Beautifully vague

Vaguely beautiful.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

It is my medium.

My words, my mind

It is the truth.

I can’t fly now

But I play (Do they know?)

Incomplete, the feeling,

My neck and wrists exposed.

Relief.