Slow, dark and insulate

These things I carry
Carefully
Over the surface of the undulating hardworld
Someone blinks and takes notes on terminology
The others are busy
Listening
As I listen I think
There is not one figure as beautiful as this song
I am not as beautiful as this song
In the clutter all the little spirits sit
Perhaps for them, it is like a hot day
Of being in the shade
Of being idle
Half-sleep and chilled alcohol
Someone is immune to exhaustion
Eyes open even when unconscious
To see everything
To know everything
To leverage the energy that comes from deprivation
The lover
Sitting next to the insomniac
Caressing
Touching
Speaking with eyebrows
Forlorn and agitated
Eyes back in euphoria
Asleep from exhaustion
Slow, dark and insulate
Here the name
I take the name from the description
The figure describes itself
Describes me
Skin transparent
Air and light that swirl about to enter
Exit
Circulate
Descend and settle over the feet
With these things you will contend
Against them you will combat
You will embrace them
You will be loved by them
When I am gone they will remain
With you
In your blood
In your hair
When you drink you will ingest them
When you exhale they will swirl about your face
Regardless of your anger and affection
Ignoring where you set your implements
You will have them
Whether I wish you to have them or not
Not my choice, I’ve little to do with it