Always a treat to see,
Its ever-stretching beauty,
Shall ever be with me,
Like the clouds, ever plenty.

The sky scours freely, matching Her infinity,
The perfect companion,
For even at night,
Her bright strikes provide a sight.
Bringing with it delight and fright,

Been on my mind:
A stream that intertwines,
A gleam born from wayward mountains,
A cabin nestled between,
A plethora of trees,
An ambition for You and Me.

Always a haze,
Leaving but a taste of sweet glaze.
I remember the days,
Whether in my dreams or real life,
Oh, it is always a delight.

Harvesting all the blooms
the cherry red dahlias and sunlit marigolds and buds with hues of ambient mornings thinking of how it feels to touch the sunrise and upholster the wind to this couch
where a turbulent heart rate tends to rest

wondering if in all the laughter and friendship and years and years
of things to talk about, to hold onto
to catch distances in my hands
and rest them on my palms
with all the wonderful things you will do

I work in my garden growing mornings
ones I pray will bring upon a rain
that will shower on the places
where you happen to be
that will sink into your grounds
and give you everything you need
To flourish

To witness the subtlety of change
in all things that breathe

To grow in this new delicate rain
and spring's easy breeze

To be the colour of water
when it's finally set free

in time alone
we grew relentless,
sleepless, piecing together dream theories
on why life must slumber
and dreams conquer

you
who tried to resurrect dead moons and stars
who looked at the sun in his face
who shed feathers from your loneliness
who pierced your own wings and fell
like comets kissing earth, stuff of dreams and religions

golden staples
you liked your tea minimally sweet
and painted colors underneath your dark circles
primitive, of earth, your deification rite

divine
darkness churning on, you saw a feminine shape
drawing back a youthful veil,
a thousand pairs of eyes peered into a couple thousand years of
void

iridescent
marble gaze, beautiful and alien
colorless, but for a splash of red
lips that held the universe in a needle-like balance
sweet as a ripe fruit drooling

barred
the galleries of your mind
ever so gentle,
the midnight raven tore at the dove’s throat
visions of an apocalypse we idly gamble on

you
who never came back
who went on a path of dark suits and diamonds
soared through milky ways and emerged from afternoon foliage
lost your way, circled back
and gone

In your dreams
I draped down the curtains of my mind
and in your thoughts I hung high
the light of the morning sun
before you breathe
your last sleep of night
remember my shadow
by the window of your heart
hold me close
before our lives whisper passed

I wish a dream was easy to buy into
like a cancer stick;— dying for a piece.
Inhaling vapors, and blowing off
smoke in a puff of dreams.

Life is like a cigarette; an addiction
to living with feelings of regret.
Time is all ashes, slowly deducting
your frame till death,
And love consumes the lungs;
too much of the wrong kind,—becomes toxic.
To advertise the biggest buyers of such dreams
for a rich life like a **** cigarette;
To be honest with the kind of addiction,
being rich appears costly.

But I guess if I'm an old truck blowing
smoke, it just means I'm exhausted.
Addicted to the cigarette life,
whether tip toeing, or running towards death,
either side, do play it cautious.
Cos whatever end you smoke the cigarette,
all roads lead to death.

You're an island
that housed beauty many shipments ago
For a drowning soul,
can only be saved by a rush of gold

Treasures of gold, lie hidden bestowed,
Beneath the crater of an old souls bowl

If my heart be the earth,
I'd look for peace
If my death sparked life,
I'd look to leave
And if life had meaning,
What could this be?

If my heart was round, I'd assume the earth fits this mold
Many moons ago it could dare lay low

Darkness fears the light
Like a kid in twilight 
Pondering on quiet times
Spent churning the street fights

i meander at the
depths of rock bottom stumbling
upon newfound grace and
gratitude.

the spiking stone all around
is dull to the eyes but makes
the ever-blue sky
come alive.

when i reach up to
touch it, i know that
i am too small to caress
those faint cotton candy
wisps.

but in my dreams,
i greet the sunrise by
perching on the shoulders
of those who dare to rise
above.