Dark on dark and
Eyes couldn’t find a hole to crawl into
But something stirred in you and I
Rooms apart
Never to be satisfied.
Forever is a long time,
The longest yet but we never gave up
As we crawled
Leaped
Swam and
Cried for more.
Believe in me,
Trust in these arms
Weak with failure and history.
Was there something more than this?
Is there now?
Andy Veilleux 
sold out on a Saturday. sat stirring, still stunned. stunning, simple straight lines pitter-pattering, one thorn lost – a bloodied thorn in a martyr’s tiered crown, smothering, still-born recognition of how. continuous. always there. never ceasing. haunting. piercing. a reflection in wet pavement escaping beneath a harrowing passage of right or wrong views – never giving in-to that sold out guess. a guest of a live-in nightmare, serpent’s skin, stinging my flesh with flecks of distilled acidic flaccidness. Could anyone out there give in to letting go of this? white cloth stained red; silly rabbits. sunken ship. a sold out Saturday, bent on letting go. non-deserving. a tasters treat. picking up on what might have been that “it’s never going to be” Sullen, sombre, studious loot – a reckoning. a wrong-doing. a playful heart eating up; an appetite for sorrow? and appetite for truth? a long, run-on sentence, scurrying it’s way through. stood up, cold hearted, a poor world, with no pain. just rain, rain, rain. and a lonely 12-pack of rickard’s red. “taster’s choice” Saturday. Still. Sat. Sold. Sold. On. Stirring.
sold out on a Saturday. sat stirring, still
stunned.
stunning, simple straight lines pitter-pattering, one thorn lost – a bloodied thorn in a martyr’s tiered crown, smothering, still-born recognition of how.
continuous. always there. never ceasing. stare.
haunting. piercing. a reflection in wet pavement, escaping beneath a harrowing passage.
right or wrong views – never giving in-to that sold out guess.
a guest of a live-in nightmare, serpent’s skin, stinging my flesh. flecks of flaccidness.
Could anyone out there give in to letting go of this?
white cloth stained red; silly rabbits.
sunken ship.
a sold out Saturday, a serenade.
non-deserving. a tasters treat. picking up on what might have been that “it’s never going to be”
Sullen, sombre, studious loot – a reckoning. a wrong-doing.
a playful heart eating up; an appetite for sorrow? and appetite for truth?
a long, run-on sentence, scurrying it’s way through.
stood up, cold hearted, a poor world, with no pain.
just rain, rain, rain. and a lonely 12-pack of rickard’s red. “taster’s choice”
#Saturday. Still. Sat. Sold. Sold. On. Stirring.