Originally Posted by jevons

Sunset:
Artessa:

We're almost there.
I won't be him,
it,
my father's shadows, terror:
the reflection of his.

Can't remember when the fairy tales split from
whatever it is out there, here-- that place
where rhyme grows stale,
softens and festers,
spreading wings into
the stench of decay
without ever sprouting one hair;
i can remember everything since.

I don't need fairies to find infinite but
they make a lovely crest.

I don't need you to touch me,
but it helps.

I need to watch this record spin,
in so doing adorn it, wet it with a
maze:
seven gardens
hand in hand;
turn the circle to pixels, then
twist them until there is depth
(just like blossoms,
the way they must be
spit from a sleepwalking tree).

The light is always so kind to your face in pictures,
i remember you different.

...because, not in spite of...
and the captains shall sink alone,
remanded-- with us a hot whisper in their pan.