1983 Forever

Autumn sky is company, in leaf filled tornados I am free. In all these hues, It's the blues I see. Your voice, a rustle in the wind, a rumour, a murmur, the hole in my heart, blood that escapes my veins. I long for a home, a bird forever on the wing, never a song to sing. These windows are my prison. I force the tree's spiteful limbs into witches' fingers. Tree fingers, hoping to cast a liberty spell, but spells fall not on the dead of heart. I am futile, I am spun sugar, brittle, a lone ingredient, that which has no place in the mouth of your existence.