understand me, take me, put me where I can not be found.

Beneath the surface of love interlocking webs lie, tangled and varied in direction, latching on and letting go. Sometimes the synapse fires inducing benevolence; belief. At other ends the water leaks in laced in doubt as we begin to sink. Miles pass between us, even while sitting side by side and the soul is seen waving, mailing a postcard home. It is then that we must swim upstream, break the mold while wet, unformed, as we carve our initials in -- gluing up the cracks from the fall.

Until the fog returns, our feet ever slipping off stones and on better days the parachute opens for us. No one ever said it'd be easy slips, because some cliches write themselves -- indelible. So we memorize and fluctuate our tone, remind each other we are electricity, that we begin to connect when we let each other disengage. We begin at the end, and end to begin, again.

Again, she spins and spins and spins. Drips sugar spooned poison pen promises, while the soul drips fluid from paper cranes, remorse. They say she makes good, fakes good, takes good, tastes ... whispered hesitation, resuscitation, manipulation, consummation.

Watch her spine bend and break, bend and break. Oh darling, crush the floor. In diamond culled clinging, passion fruit madness, watch it dangle and drain. Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes. Fallen idols, lit cigarette, holed stockings, the rips --- slip slid slide, teeth sink in, much deeper still. We begin at the end, and end to begin, again.

Begin.