Invention - Lovesick
There will be no guide
For what what will be the longest nights
There are to be had
There are to be had
No perception but invention
Of to which majestic heights
The helpless hours hold you
Or to whatever depths they drag
Moving always without sight
Caught like rustling plastic
Bags in the limbs of trees
That line your street
Between impulses to ignite
And the risk attached to
Every spark of light
Error
Silence
Error
Silence
Portraits perfect in design
Hanging flawless
Unobstructed
On the insides of the
Lids of your eyes
Last as long as any other
Lie in the presence of a guiding light
In the arms of divided branches
Imperfection radiates
Marching over silence
In sheets of sparks
