Weather me or fall. Weather me or fall to the sanctioned world of kaleidoscopes and bright colors like that of Alice and her distinct and distant non-existant Wonderland. Weather me or fall into the arms of the stranger within you which has no clue of doubt nor misconduct that your soul truly suffers without its conscience; weather me, your conscience, your heart, your everything. Weather me or fall into the sin of my blue and cold-blooded suicide. Weather me as I am a storm and you are a boat lost afar from shore. Weather me as you would weather all other mistaken tragedies of your life, but do not put me into your book of ancient runes as though I have been nothing but a glimpse of pain in your thought; weather me like I am fog that takes over your vision and confuses you. Weather me like I am the fog and the cloud of your judgement, but never let me go. Weather me and never forget that I have been your strength, your sanity, and your sanctuary at your time of need and want. Weather me for the quote love of love and its soft hours unquote, as the brilliant and gallant bard has once written and spoken and had his puppets act with truce and ardor. Weather me for the love of love and its soft hours I beg and plead for you are my only memory of a time once lost. Weather me, weather me please I beg on my knees of waves and my fists of shores; weather me as I am yours and yours alone. Weather me with my peculiar patterns and configurations and numbers and figures and letters and languages, oh God, weather me as I am and as I will be. Weather me as I weigh us both down, and never give up your courtly manner, as it is the only ground I have to stand atop. Weather me and have no change of heart as I am yours yours yours yours and yours alone. Weather me with my tornado tantrums and rainy triumphs. Weather me with all your might and your bravery and your love because I am the broken boy from the broken home with broken dreams, and you’re the only fancy still alive and real. Weather me sooner than never and label yourself saviour of my faulty mind, heart, soul. Weather me before I assassinate laughter at its purest of forms from the diaphragm of a child and before I snatch the pride away from the eyes of the senior on her death bed. Weather me for the sake of humanity and for your own sake, for I am your pride and your sin, yours alone not shared with another soul of Adam’s sons, yet in my arms (your arms) is the ability to either shake a hand in proposal or peace, or shake the ground in displays of audacious resentment. Weather me and be not an Alice that runs off to her make-believe Wonderland. Weather me and be brave with your love.
19/02/2015 – 21/02/2015
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