Never met

Kernels of hope lost in the warren open ended and blind alleyed. Would I wish it again? would I tread in the faint washed out prints almost taken by the sea, Will I step from the twisted metal? a catastrophists fall and miraculous conclusion? I fear not, for it is not the flesh that disappoints me this time, but plot-less lines that mock me, the circles of possibility and impossibility that run concentrically around my thoughts, that penetrate their fibre and threaten to twist my body in turn; all the while dancing to the tune of my dying. Our penance is shared in our silent pact; forever wondering never concluding. Only through our death can this equation be balanced, can the sum be squared and each of us carry the burden of love like a dead bird in our breast pocket.