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...