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[ohtmlo]

Envelopes to Summer, as told on labor day - [bohney]

Once air about, once warm, took leave and staled, and touch grew cold at labor’s end, I cope. Darling Summer, withhold in hand my hope, That you, post-labor, ne’er will fall and pale as- -I still do grasp your hands with faith to stay since flower stems we grew enroped our lives.  But words from stems now browned are hard denied while distance grows in place of stems today, when- -It seems, my dear, the labor babe birthed still, and you, from labor pains, grow far with haste. Again to Nature’s course, I move outpaced. The more I hold, the more I seem to kill. Then- -A citizen of Anhedonia: Utopia of fading arias. Passed.

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Waltz around the conversation - [bonne]

In time,

....

Indigo skies soon decline soon to rot. Now the night weighs the spine and makes

Ick surround eyes that turn wired bloodshot. And those eyes opened wide only

Fill up the mind through the plight of past thoughts. Sleep deprived and here lies about,

Mistakes of mine, seemed sublime though seen small, they form binds over my acts now.

....

Displayed atop the shelves I have bare spots that past tries ne’er reached high to meet.

With dreams ne’er got sat behind the corpse wrought he can’t cite moments shined so he

Injests ergot air that lies and yet talks of a life he may find someday.

In the exhaust, grows the spite for the clock as the time carries lives away

....

It seems to oft change face, this cursed clock, and leave cries of the nights wasted

Ignore the talks and let drift to tomorrow, where tired flesh tries again

Still. But the gaunt gaze peering through space hollow and quiet ne’er can sight more days.

....

It seems that not ever  will dreams grace awful-went lives at the night's pace. But,

If one could walk from the cliff he’s atop he would withhold the thought and meet ill by the clock ‘fore then.

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I've taken 50 Benadryl in the last 5 minutes - [Bonney]

And when will you get here, at the end of time?

Find that in this bed, I yet stand waiting for you to appear,

fearing in this space, wished once divine, outstretched arms far from your hands-

recant the thought truth that I was near. I see alone, this date sublime:

....

alone, but with a tall shadow at the door, who awaits a slumber that never comes.

done away forever was sleep of my own, I can sleep with just you, who I adore,

evermore, I dream awake and glum where shadows wait to reap the sown;

flown low where time ends, just to be ignored, now high falling stuck in this stun

....

this- long moment here at time’s end, where- small low-burning stars float about: 

lout voices yell by and condemn my cowardice, and white wrinkles grow from folded air

there, atop my head that fills with doubt. Here I thought I’d once hold your kiss.

With that, we’d walk those spiral stairs, we’d dance until the pain’s out,

....

Now, this hoped “time’s end” stayed “almost”, then finished. Again, when crows gather, my sky’s blue,

through more attempts, capsules, I’ll finally reach thou, the one with many left hanging for your kiss.

This space, not I, passes as the day turns anew, I’ll wait here at time’s end if you’ll allow

vowing to show you all the “ends” you’ve missed, and that all I’ve missed is you.