...Bounde, Not To Happen

...Writng the wordes to a book I know I’ll never read
...In this library of life
...tears stain the wordes to make them flow together so, so well
...takng a brush to repaint my heaven as this unbounde hell

...contort my crumbling structure into a cross of despair
...on the road to god doesn’t know where
...on the road to where no god can surely care
...i’ll turn to leave as soon as you tell me when we get there

...signposts sleep in the tall unkempt grass that see’s no distortion
...it’s all for you now...come take me portion by diminishing portion
...I never really, ever really finished anything I have started
...the trouble is now that I’m starting to doubt even that

...paint the dice, cheese for the mice, not once but twice
...I go blind, then close my eyes, and to your surprise
...you are unsurprised, your silhouette is defined
...but your delivery is untimed
...why are the curtains closed in the daytime?
...is my timing that flawed?


...cover me in Augusts shadow
...cover me in Augusts shadow for the winter it comes
...cover me in the shadow of what once was
...never to be clasped, never to be held and never to be missed
...icebergs crack under the strain
...landmasses merge and grow
...fyre tumult from blackened skyes
...I can only but cover these eyes

...chained and led one after the other they tred
...this is an unpublished chapter
...the unwritten tome
...quill and ink across flesh not fettered papyrus
...deeper, so much deeper than the skin I am bounde within