Morsels of moments

We can't go back, pick up, pieces

Anymore

Than we can jump ahead 

To when we

Were nowhere

Together.

It was just right

After I left

A landing, a ledge

Caught me 

You fell past me

In a dream

Blood-stained hands

Grasping.

There was a river.

The sound conjures the divide

How it carries those times

And places

Elsewhere.

You got carried away

I took another way

Anyone's guess

To the sea, 

ultimately

Never again

One 

and the same.

Painting by David Cox -' On the Conway River, North Wales' - Google Art Project, date unknown in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons. .

I can chillax, can you?

There is only one thing
you likely don't know about me-
And that is-
I make the most interesting
ice cubes-
Of course, others make these too-
and I know I do not do the freezing
alone-
But-you cannot deny-it is I
who puts the water right there-
where now there-is occupied in ice-
Nice-right?
I mean-
I made the molecules-merely
molded them there, made it "New"
like an Artist-Scientist-
BWAH-HA-HA-HA!
My lips must be numb...
And that facet too, micro-magic,
like Prozac-
s-s-l-o-o-o-o-w-w-i-n-n-n-g down those
neural leaps-or lips-I must be numb-or dumb?
And yet regardless, the swelling still subsides.
Cryo-linguistically speaking, I guess
I have adept-ed and tuned this chill-
And yes, I can perform this skill
upon request-particulate-ly
for any swollen or hot head guest
who may have hit their head
like me-
and like to eat their water too.



Image By CopyrightFreePhotos CopyrightFreePhotos.HQ101.com (Own work by uploader [1]) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.