The Ethereal

Blame shifts exhales, sighs, as sweat beads into crystal lakes of sun, that twinkles floats into endless on. 

Dreams of pop culture trickles from age to age as ages ferment the froth that sprinkles crystalline among the days of our lives. 

Heart beats skip a page, and plot their ways to keep scorecards, and page counts out of the adventures yet told.

The silent hum on in the material, as they neglect and hold us down with the tips of their fingers as we suffocate, and become ethereal.

Aerials dance in the back of our minds as we travel back and forth to the summer homes we used to own, and hopeful days of sunrises, suits, and neck ties hang us from the ceiling fans. 

Hold me as I jump bare feet into a waning sky my wings broke on impact, and the inside joke keeps coming and it don't stop coming as they heal in seasons but never mend. 

The eternal is word that we long for, hope for, and pray for but is at the fore front as feet trip in unison, the distant whistles of races ending chime on as we are alone here out in the drink. Aimless, and clueless as we seek to participate but the inside jokes comes around like a worthless childhood friend that invites you as a centerpiece of humiliation that causes stitches for their sides. 

Blames shifts, inhale the luck, jump feet first as our neck ties catch us in four, four time.