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I want you in my memoir
Your heart speaking history
Visions carrying the future
To the same resting place I'd chosen
Unbeknownst to these two souls
All the binds their strings would weave
their innocent trickery
Word play
Night play under cover
Designed to try their hand at the creator
The pen dropped down for them
Ready to receive
Because their very impulse ran with ink
Cut them open and it would spill
Orderly as none other could arrange
Chaos sublime drained from their veins
Depth could not be measured
It did not scare
Neither he nor she
concerned with normalities
They just kept moving
Yes they gave into cravings
Guilt-ridden for the thought of it
Assuaged by a spirit
Some clinics called it psychotic
They
They knew the labels undermined
The visions they flung farther from plain sight
Could it really be alright
Is anybody hurting?
Then I must go on
They weren't living for a memoir
But the day, inevitable, came
When time stood at the intersection
reality set in
Something here's truly brewin
And it's too late to give in
So on they went
Living their dreams
Painting their nightmares
For the balance
For the delicacy
Of hearing the beat
The beat of a single reason
To live in step with what drove the story
Onwards
Innards
Spread forwards
Grace of pain
Repaired transmissions
Broken promises
Pieced together again
When?
Ink, blood, spit, love
Cut from the cloth
Collaged harmony
As best they could
They knew one day,
One day they would