By | 1 November 2012

I was holler soft
in your tender way,
you were fierce and there
in my grim wasteland.
I may be nailed to a cloud,
seared by its silver lining,
you may prefer frayed yesterdays
to troubled tomorrows
yet ever the breath
is yours or mine:
who knows?

Fearless of ordinance
and hell’s enlightenment
we strip height from mountains
we dilute oceans
we thicken air:
in a future as fickle as changing minds
you storm nano
I cradle massive.

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