me on your scales, your scales of light. I'll never dread the bread of our love's communion for in that exchange, that fleshy union you give me the eye of the eye of the eye of your sight. Monday, 25 June 2012 Sometimes it seems that there is so little of the world left - how could we have done it? The world is not TV or radio or newspapers - it is bullet-holed skulls, labourers' cracked hands, the milky skin of virgins, the gnashed teeth of murderers, the quiet rapture of two lovers in a candle-haloed room. So answer me, how could we have done this? And where has the time gone? And when will the time come? And why did Nick Drake die at 26 a virgin? And why is love always only emerging, when it should be right here bursting from the two of us. for ever? The universe is for ever life is for ever, but we are the brief arrangements of cells. I look upon you in absolute wonder, Auden's words ringing in my ears: lay your sleeping head, my love, entirely the human, upon my faithless arm, and Armitage can cleave it from the joint or seam if that's what love means, carry a gun, signal the alarm. You are a miracle, life is fantastical, and I want to celebrate in it with you before the clock runs your beauty down to the wind. About Me I'm a twenty-three-year-old man-boy, originally from Brighton. I