Stream of Consciousness

Wish

     Even if there's too much magic

     in this wish,

     I vowed to grant it

     Even if time passes in solitude,

     A flowing hope you're sure of,

     drives the force in my life.

     I have nothing but,

     flat lands rising

     who create a mountain,

     And water to nothing but a rough crevice

     can heal a touch from sin bled water

     like oil and fire and fuel for the harsh 

entrails

     cracking the mountainside into a shape 

when

     it left no trace. It's tribute to a former maker, unless

     You can't remember the water freeing the sins from the cracks in the bone. A maze of dead ends wait for strangers,

     the route I lost right of growing restless,

     Clutch inside, break,

     Imprinted on you, what would you 

choose to keep?

     My sin is all that's left.

     They color you hope.

     Pumping sluggish blood far from the 

dank beginning of a muddled pathway.

                                                                                     Even

     If I knew how I ran away,

     It wouldn't keep coming new.

     I remember how to run away,

     It always comes new,

     Tears, a wire,

     Where do you start, and the machine 

begins?

     Beat something new.

     Beating new.

     Clutch,

     Force apart,

     Torn, fears.

     Even if magic doesn't come to this wish,

     I vowed again to grant it,

     And wait for something again,

     A new oil and water that wanted to be 

together,

     And a future I want to see with you,

     My sin and your dying hope,

     Stirred quietly, frustrated,

     waiting to finish on

     Our favorite sins.

     You wished to hold onto scars.