kuklamen

You are a rainspiller, a windblower                                  flying across the sky              pattering your face against my windowpane                       as I stare at the void unblinkingly       Any passer-by can shovel you to the trashcans of history       as I let you snow on the sidewalk of chance, ceaselessly—        Hold your breath and catch sunmotes in your empty hands                    I drink wintercups filled with nothingness                    Pregnant with the void I break all these people made of glass with my fingertip         I'm walking through the snow as I'm walking through you    

On the road sparkled with nowhere The cities of glass collapse— Chill words rain down on me Drenched in language shreds Derided by shadows You stare at me tongue-tied and soulless Tired of raving in the desert of words Unredeemed by the tide of desireless songs I rise with suntrails of dust Your face is nowhere to be found All roads lead to heaven if you tiptoe on the glass ceiling Today is the birth of storm-dwellers Sooner or later you'll find yourself hovering over the void endlessly Ungraspable white noise falls through the empty night sky As hail stones astonished storm-riders You get lost in the sun's black eye

Tonight time is unmoored and i drift to unknown shores infinitely as if no second had ever elapsed. Echoes of foreign voices beam through me and dance with deceitful lightmotes, but you are even more elusive than them. I sometimes think the lake i'm crossing is your own rippling skin, but am startled at this chill surface. Tomorrow the sun will be stranded on the shore with me, and we'll be just as surprised to be born again, and just as forgetful of each endless night. My motionless body will rouse with the first stroke of wind, or maybe with your own breathstroke. Don't rub your eyes too hard or you'll be nowhere to be found. Voices are r