when we touch

it's like a death

all the possibilities

in the space between us

die

andrew writes:

when i die

there is no me

its literal

sunlight sparkling on the dust

my reply :

pouring his self

into

bottomless pits

of despair

why does he care

he's none to spare

andrews reply :

in an insane asylum

u need to see

pour out your soul and the world reacts with silence or steals it

too soft fluffy earthchild

change !

too hard real undesirable

change ?

ironic bitter taste no pleasing

those others are nice and appealing

you used to be like that .....

the gap between expectation and achievement is filled with screams of the falling ...

the

winds

of

autumn

blow

bearing

the

bright

decay

of

falling

leaves

never let the strain of inaction alone be your stimulus to action

it's those that are afraid to live that are afraid of dying

andrews reply :

in fact life and death are blurred

andrew writes:

where am i?

nowhere

where have i been?

nowhere

where have i come from?

nowhere

don't worry you are about where you should be

my reply :

from the ocean

to dust

and back again

or

... from the ocean

to the stars

and back again

at thirteen

there are sharp edges everywhere

all of them cut

aging blunts the edges

dims the colours

taints all emotion with reason

old age is so undignified

not the glory of youth

but a rushed exit

or worse

a doddering decline

andrews reply :

not exactly a rush

the slow absorption by the grave

summer

dried and dusty

fast fading

autumn

condensation

on my early morning window