The moon afloat a perfect pitted sphere
Yearning, a / this yearning – indescribable
and you, us, adventure, it is
and this amorphous cabal, our hearts pulsating joy
new life, new life
Indifferent, indescribable, imaginal
liminal fantasy, not spell,
told a game, we spun, spin, outwards, we
Nuclear fusion reactors, we
strange meat adaptors
we suffering, growing, growing, shrinking…
To just for once find a way to
but what? My notion that
this work, this
a process, which is Love
If you trust it it can happen
you with it
If you trust it hurts less, like still a heavy flutter sting…
Do I trust it?
Who are these beings? Is it a bet?
That stupid? That funny?
Are you ?
What is the dimensionality of imaginary space?
Does the moon hold specific indifference for Kesh?
Does he know how I love him?
particle flitters between hands
An explosion of hearts, stars, an explosion in US.
I want you to know it is still dragging on me, but love is the thing that heals it.
The giraffe is the moon. You are liminal starlight
I know you when you
Wings like rooks,
Hanging amorphous nothing space
Gentle light, endless power ripped from me, shaking
simple words, trust, guiding hand in the dark.
I hate to see my friends suffer.
Were we ready for this? It happened.
still just broken winged birds learning to fly, forever
Interdimensional space travel
is our game, the Hove Space Programme
is our name.
Make a weapon, use it.
We grow, we love, we be
Love is a many splendid thing
The process is twists and turns
It lies, it has to…
it does not exist
Can there be such a thing
as cosmic friendzoning?
Sure can feel like it sometimes
(, softly, softly) I don’t suspect so...
I remembered what a world without love was like
I didn’t like it
Love, the web
Love, the mycelium
chatter, pulses, courses
Love the rip cord: yearning, being, tugging,
Love, the everything, the nothing of it all