Today, the knuckles of a tattooed waiter read
The same word from my thought unsaid.
Yesterday, every parcel of the wind chime I rang
fell apart over and over again.
Visions of my future
where by a slight I fathome
Visions of myself
As a formless phantom
a vague and vapid territory
Drawn by the pull of the promise:
The other side is waiting for me