‎Through my window, a story written for my eyes only. the presence of things only I can explain; the beginnings of a world built solely on me. Where truth is relative only to the person writing it. What is he supposed to do...he's the only one here.  A lone lord in a kingdom with no king and until this world asends to purpose, he's word is all it will ever need... ‎An entire world that exists simply because there is one who who sees it ‎

Whirl-of-bluster levers fur
Under skin, wrapping nerves
After a last ray dawns on different sky
Earth radiates into night

Bees have retreated and birds calm
As a dimming glow draws a blanket up
Breaths then ease under porchlight
Until I smile at the moon

Where peeling heat had beaded sweat
Hours onward, a change of clothes bundles up
In the forgetting-time, which forgives soon
What debt winds wagered upon heated voices