AB (25th june / Lisbon, Portugal)

To Adorn, To Wrap, To Hold The Beating Heart

And so it remains, silent
Graveyard quite like
Indescribable as they say
So intense and overwhelming
That I dare not bear it

Such as joy, pride of
A gleaming set of teeth
To show and say what those
Words of wisdom made for fools
Dare not explain these days,

These days that I’ve been
Slowly sailing through
Rowing the gloom away
Remaining far, far from
The loneliness of being.

What so to call lonely?
An unfamiliar noise
Breaks in through the house
That I call my own
And puts me away from thoughts,

Expectant, delusional thoughts
Of a day that will not come
And a time that fails to arrive,
For I have seen what I had to see,
And I won’t be seeing it anymore.

by A.R. Brixton

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