sorry these are first drafts so a little crude.
You deluded me
Seeping through every crack of skin
A universe beyond my senses
Drawing me to exultation
But nothing more than earth and roses
The birdsong, or the coolness of the running stream
Nothing but exhaled air.
You were a voice that came to be
A little fragile broken memory.
And I would have taken you
But your face cursed me
And I am weighed down for all time.
And (there’s) the word that comes and never goes
Hunting silence as its game
As the footsteps of the metronome
Stops dead before the door.
Hung on chants, engrossing
Hung on creaking gallows
In the storm of a silent movie.
Breaking contradictions in his mind was, to him, like walking through a winter forest snapping twigs underfoot.