sand in my soul

water flows as

caverns - bound in color

silent in waves

speaking, shore across shore

quiet in touch

sometimes ever quiet,

ever in touch

as pictures atop the

surface of

an ocean touching real -

torn pain painting fingerless voids -

grown men

dreaming childish screams -

streams of children

born too young

movement with

nowhere to move

aching fingerprints

of the past -

living to last

with nowhere

to stand -

somewhere tired and

so hard

to touch,

the touching touched

as real hands

are loose in command -

sand in my soul,

imprinted without reason,

for the rational

of i,

is she

for the rational of we,

which is -

who is -

- jude





a woman,

and who she is

pieces free

pieces, lost often to me

as i dare to be

i lean for all

as in touch

we are

in movement of touch

we are free

- - -

on every piece i touch

i touch all

- jude




ancestors in her living time!

what does she fear,

when we touch,

that she dares not move

but the inch-eternal

held solid,

is it i,

or all the faces

ancestors in her living time

am i;

a face


faces - across the occasion of


just a man without traces

of alone

or so am i sewn

with she,

i am

a face

alone -

as in touch

i am sewn to

move, of she -

for she is

singularly of me -

of traces

belonging - in the only one

of she

almost dressed of

eternity -

but for the threads

of fear - which refuse

that i remain i

on the move

of our closeness

turned corner tears -

across her love - separate in its fear

of touch,

joined in it’s strength

of such





all the faces

i never am

but for the illusion

of my body’s form

in touch -


but across movement she knows

or does she

shall we copulate - atop

fingers held in real

or touch flesh into flesh

fingers touching

into hands,

a reaching body form


an implosion,


water shared

in the eternity of our stand

footprints who meet

as they walk upon the


be we, cross hands


the strands of time

as distance -

as i feel- i am,

my love is my touch,


more then she

or i




there isn't -

tools across the threads of time

for freedom

who are we ...

and i move beyond the

laughter of time


or real

touching with

she . . .

but real

where time, need

never see -

- jude




leaning home

that more can matter

on a world,

of voids -

then the living sound of

her breath -

breathing close -

never lonely - of she

never missing ; holding her ever so

close, as it almost hurts

as life - inside

in the cross of distance

i miss her,

her love - quietly across ever


eyes in dark,

her pain in smiles

as; her elusive touch

even her fear

of i,


as she is an all of who

she is ...

her moments of


ever as, never part

of our closeness, i hold

so long across time

leaning home

eternally into the wind

of her presence

of her touch

- jude




shared; through water to earth, moon free

would that i

to write a song -/

and fear - in near

oh! along,

woman moved close

yes, close enough to see

was scared

to stand too long

or be

fear - crossing willows,

who are trees -

/ - of somewhere to belong

where i am

- - - ?

but where

inhuman in my stare

of finger-eyes

flying in the tries of touch -

cold steel facts,

aged old in eternal youth

watching children die,

before the water across

their fingers dare to try -

"oh! silly humans, don't you see"

spoken from crystal black

eyes in star-lust-shine

power across

a stream,

"serious little man, why do you

eternally dare to stand -

who fears your

command - that they reprimand

your life -

for death shrouded earth

for times own mirth,

paranoid almost birth -"

and can it be called - love

that so human dream

when the turns in your eyes

scream - on the touch,

of someone

from those seemingly human fingers

who know to belong,

with no color - known

as wrong -

or where am i that i am,


can i touch

without tearing into a soul


it forgets on how to be

worlds converted

into atmosphere without air -

or death in touch

and rightly might

she fear -

but silly when, it's all so clear -

and the tears of try

need, not

turn into time’s

forever dying -

as voids, are but

the illusions-real

of humans, ah! so


a song of real

of touch who feels

and steals

only illusion,

ticking in time

rhyme is rhyme -

as rhythm -

is two forms in dance-

so; name me love

or a shared breathing of she

through water to earth


across the care to be there

not a human stare

but i -

without question

am there belonging of she

closer then a tree

to itself through roots & earth

without the greed of need

which - tosses simply reflective


for my mirror is

but a window in free glass-

clear without refrain

; from a song of feel ...

- jude




water is touch / moon is light

so close -

lost or roaming in

the empathetic return

of what eye -

words passed to a singular feel

ignored perspectives


a; the pieces only real


words lost

reach - for moments

solid -

that in piece i might not


but gain

stain across the whole

woman worn -

too tired for crying

hard within, is trying

to live, the pain

or die

in dreams of strength -

loss mirrored against real -

feelings ebb

as waves across the moon

ever soon

till she passes herself not,

i am held by she -

living free

yet, allowing moments

to swallow me -

to be

in the where of who i am -

while a hard voice behind my

eyes - believes only in

tries -

move on

pass nothing by

never leave

forever fly


sky dreams in real

implant the feel,

home within

never lost

and illusion in sin

plays in the world’s name -

i smile

allow voids their

necessary appearance,

but never a stain -

living in rain

; dry in warm

behind clothes

occasionally wind torn -

water is touch

as - moon is light - i am

of woman - in smile

deeply solid...

- jude




along across tonight when you are not

alone across night

when you are not

woman is somewhere

hiding-across motion in

real -

behind cigarettes - burning

fast -

into a smoker’s void,

while an engraved plate

lies nailed across

highways in earth -

no - mister,

"you belong

but not here,"

with her maybe

but do you really expect

illusion takers to

care on

the exceptions in real

please - don't avoid the feel,

we'll steal you dead

before we'll ever allow

you to wed

eternal across time -

laughing continually

taking find

they try so hard to


what is

more then


onto nothingness -

i lean fingers across my side

and though no flesh

is found,

i touch the warmth of

ground in my woman -

breathing warm

alone across night

when you are not ...

- jude




she stands - in return to me

she stood before me

really by me

of ; that we know to

be ...

crashing on the speed-time,

of touching too hard - that which

calls in demands to more then real

might hold

- or illusion folds

a child's need for feed

of grain who grows

no longer of earth

but has fallen into the wind

and the child can't quite know how

to swim -

the woman takes, almost dreams to

break -

she stands - in return to me

of piece,

something all-within, beyond

my touch, which had touched -

lingering on

in a place where, i might not

belong -

dare they to point earth-solid-lies

till they seep inside - ?


i don't believe in their

lies - as i remained deep


across distances all - with my woman

and it was a long night in black,

sacks tied tighter then light

yet not, then the might of

touch in real

love across the quiet feel

of living close -

- - -

so she turned for sleep

across tears -


building in the distraction of fears

with moments as years

fought within herself

turns are burns and steep,

pieces are called

who come and fall,

seconds stall

and i lie close

breathing heavy in the weight of she

as me

no thought

holding her hard in the closeness

who is we

for pieces gone are just forgotten,

as all, she – remains broken

in a whole waiting for return strength

to be -

in her closeness to me

(on eternal repeating refrain)

and night wore on,

weighting its storm -


long into black

she returned all

to me -

and quietly tired, we slept

complete in out together,

- jude




the freedom / the weight of we . . .

how can i speak of who i am, when

there are a million answers

across eternal whys

do you fear to believe

on the thoughts of my needs

what you see

are seeds in moving form

always moving, as ever worn,

for in touch with you

i stand whole

never torn,

my demands are but the voice

of who i am

demanding nothing,

giving me to you

and don't turn away,

i ask not that you - live away

from your ownership in the world,

i ask not that you move as i -

so if i am, let me be

you are life

it is my strength that you

are any need to be

it is only when the world

stands - negating between us

that there is pain

across the sea of my breath -

as, woman

my touch is of you

and not any concept

of want, of need

social greed

and you are all you are

eternal or worlded

yet maybe, who i am against the

world - gives you pain

in sharp crystal rain -

would that,


to need more


less then me

if i were to remain in those hurting

times to be -,

know me

or dare to believe

across your real

and your needs

i am feed,

as i am touch

within my hard

often ice sight

in sharp light -

for as i am there of you -

i am eternal across

the freedom - as the weight

of we -

- jude


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