Unfinished

Triangle:
Free, we're three -
you and me.

You, when you're 'you'
and I, when I'm 'me'
are only us, some degree.

And at times we climb
the pole of oneness,
a triangle to be.

Then we slip,
slip away, again
into ourselves.

Never a Story

What was it about his eye -
an eye but a tomb?
Beckoning, then thwarting
that 'life' about me,
he only let death
in his room.

Gore.
I saw him leak a colour
one night.
He almost touched me
with the eye.
Naked,
but for that stain about me -
I crawled out of sight.

He followed me
to my mind,
Love and Doom.
Red,
I ran away,
away from the gloom.

I keep the stain today -
I am a book that has been read.
But for my invisible nudity,
Gentlemen, I am dead.