Calmly.
It's all I can think about,
and it is painted in the cold air
with every weary sigh.
Calmly.
I guess if I would breathe at the pace of my heart
the beats would fragment and shatter through my chest
and splatter through the air.
Waiting.
Yeah, I am out here beside the building
red bricks against the fog of the morning,
waiting on you from all directions,
hearing the ticking of the tock-
I mean, clock.
Waiting,
with the wintry fringe to keep me occupied.
My hands hurt,
but at least they still feel,
unlike, as you would say, my heart.
Wasting.
Yet again there is no chance you will come this way,
and yet again I'm going to be late,
but I think I might rather waste away
than admit I will never see your face.
Not again-
for I have not yet,
you are the person of my dreams.
My secret,
my despair.
Oh well then,
I will walk along the ocean
to the cataract at the end of the world,
where waters fall onto the graves of millions'
tiny shattered, misty worlds.
I remember seeing a bird flee to sky,
only to flee from the horizon
in fear that there was nothing beyond the eye,
but what say you, if you were blind?
Would you walk forward past the end,
then fall into the eternity of oblivion?
All these thoughts pass me
as I lean against this brick wall,
the bell sounds in the distance
But I will continue waiting,
my breath drifting upward
threating to shatter the sky.
I will continue waiting
for those things unseen
by the eye.
