Absolutely Miles Away …too many clouds, too little time…

hours

Those little lines in which society must displace their time, a ticking wristwatch, tuned to the personal perception of faceless mannequins, chirruping through theta milestones, inclement satsuma angles and segmented chunks of the piechart.

Waking shakefully in nightingale thunderstorm hours where many will not tread; alone in a night where all you wish to see is day, to rest further under heavy material and for these missing hours to slip away unnoticed, shadows dispersing into the thirst of shimmering velvets.

Sharp-suited well-heeled stiff-collared morning hours living to passages invented, indented by chit-chat, networking, pressure cooking a wish of washing away. Drinking time furiously, fighting for every lunchtime second before afternoons waiting for days to end to start, to begin all over again…

clementine fruits of labour and ardour soak in turpentine ridding more segmented chunks again. Left to right themselves read in the red evensong, a moment to onesself and the dizzying spell of nightness falls in.

Whilst i sleep, i’ll take a picture of my eyes so that you can see into my dreams…

Make it a panaroma so that I can cover my wall with it, blending it in the mish-mash of my own world.

panorama, i meant initially. but pan-aroma adds a nice flavour too…

panorama in aroma - it could be a new view with a smell too!