The sacred and the scared align and
   call on me to break the ballerina’s spine.
   My heart has fallen where he lands, when
   he lands.
   The sound of every word you said hit
   like a wave of infra red... I’d really like
   to stay but I’ve got to go home, alone.
   Summer came and summer went while
   we contrived to re-invent the scene serene.
   The sound of every word you said hit
   like a wave of infra red ; I’d really like to
   stay...
   Frosted glass the window stains your
   face and shattered ice becomes kaleidoscopes
   of colour, taste and sound and turns the
   ground into the liquid of the sea, the
   liquid friction of the see-saw swaying,
   drugged among the shards of splintered
   snow to where the ultraviolet rays stain
   the whiteness of your skin where wheels
   of white light shine and spin towards the
   essence of the end, then re-beginning
   in slow-motion... slow-motion...