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Taxing light by measurement
Focussing time without to within
My wall
I shout at or climb
Truth has pierced to the quick
Dead to the whirl of spinning
Rain-bow-windows
Flooding my cell with hope
Showering my bed of roseless feathers
Heightening my limits
Broadening my chains
Echoing my silence
Swallowing my dreams
Denying its promise
Teasing the threads of my thoughts
Brick it up
I beg of you.

Byron!... it's nice to have you back, I've been missing you... I have to go now, but after my first read through...

"Showering my bed of roseless feathers".. is unexpectedly beautiful...

.. talk to you later, good Byron...

v i o l e t (flower)