Eternally feeling you on the fleshy patterns on my fingertips, <br />an epochal sensation stemming millennia - only on human skin. <br /> <br />Not necessarily a physical nebula, but a knowledge in knowing <br />that your ferocious fire hangs off a starchain like a portrait. <br /> <br />Personal paralysis, blissfully bound to the bounds of bliss, <br />eyes unable to open but seeing everything anyways. <br /> <br />Obstinately oblivious to the flies crawling in and out of my mouth, <br />corpus consumed in my love of hell and divine devil spawn. <br /> <br />I, the human skin, forever feeling. Even though you literally live <br />over ten million miles above, hanging overhead like a stalactite <br /> <br />waiting to fall. Unlike a calcite deposit, however, you would estinguish <br />the world with a whisper in a universe no longer listening. <br /> <br />So here I sit, fabricated, body and mind moving consistently <br />forward in an orbit that I played no role in creating. Yet still. <br /> <br />Yet still I can feel your beautiful breath on my fingertips, the <br />flies on my face, and everything ensnared in your onslaught of colour.<br /><br />Kale Beaudry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-was-just-beyond-my-fingers/
