Ether'd Sky Drifta

Erstwhile soul I beg you to stop

never pay me any mind

a scalawag ship-mate,

a bustered dead song

I implore you to stop following me

I need some space.


Grovel beyond red stars

and spirited flames of

ore and iron,

hear copper beaches

clang thru marshland endeavours and

I neither have the fortitude

nor the character

to go forth with you by my side.

But cold angel, listen to me:

If ever a cloud demon lov'd an angel more

I would disentagrate into (sub)urban myth and mists

Carrrying solid visions

of tangerine promises & dark throated fields afire

with makeshift masks streaked in the blood of

the primeval holy lamb,

doused in the anguish of mortal man.


It is time again, my friends & foes,

to enter the ether'd drift

of rose-milk sky

and ponder the planets and oxygen.

In short, it is now my tenuous duty

to become the keeper of

my atmosphere

listening tentatively to dappled seashells

turned towards the mountains below.

I walk sideways into the flames and bid you good evening.