There's nothing can be done but wait—
till promise looms—
while April's passions blithely bloom

Brighter the days, though bitterly cold
The view is a carpet of flowery knolls
Studded with poppies and daisies of white
Flowers aglow in the loitering light—

Oh could I tarry, and oh could I stay
Oh could I pair with this blossoming glade
Could I linger and lie under stretches of sky
I would linger and lie for an age

and now i’m drenched in desire.

feral and writhing at the hand that feeds me
and everyone always feeds me.

there’s no use in waiting
or wading in the grass

yet, i still feel the blades upon my back
every drop of wet wet dew caresses me
and the breeze shimmers me tauntingly.

now, i twist and contort at the touch of something new
and it rises up in me,
this new longing,
this new pining.

won’t you satisfy me?
won’t you give me what i deserve?

and i know that i will see you again
under the shade of the night
covered in sticky sweat
and love’s delight.

and until then,
nothing else will satisfy me.
nothing can compare.

and soon, so soon,
you will own my flesh
and you’ll have me, rare.

Gold, oh gold of homeland soil touched once and nevermore
glisten in my memory for eternity unbeholden
and cast the visage of perception, shrouding your long distance
that my heart may rest in clouds of artifice and mirth

Scatter all the truths amidst the wind
to drift unnoticed to a distant desert, buried beneath the sand.
Paint with chlorophyll of sickly verdance; mask the image
greener from the other side and poisonous within

Some day 20 years from now
I shall look back and see the hills
and think of misty mornings;
196 up Old Belair Road,
Middlemarch by Windy Point,
Rehearsal Room 3 just down the hallway;
A chance to pluck the strings and cast illusions with my melody

Sentimental whims below the shade of the veranda
Said I’d write my debut novel 'fore I turned 18
Then the venom poured on down
and withered the roots beneath my feet
and sent a southerly wind to sweep me to a ‘home’ that I know not

In truth, the venom was always there
but I never deigned to see it.
I frolicked and danced upon the grass;
merrily ignorant of its prickles.

Now from balconies and windows in a foreign haven
I see the grass as only green and bask in sweet nostalgia.
I need not fear the prickles of the truth’s venom spires:
I am far away and safe
I’ll never touch it anyways

Unfortunately I did it again,
I fell for the daydream,
I idolised men.
Now predictably I’m in way over my head,
Your presence I’m used to,
Your breathing in bed.
You’re part of the furniture now,
We can’t stay away,
Your love is a grass stain,
I can’t wash away.

Wind drifting through grass
At my feet, it stops and moans
Wind breaks- moaning ends

Lawn mower,
At noon I hear yours echoes,
Like thunder, spread evenly
Across the earth.

Touching you
Always was unacceptable.
But now it's happened.

The wind rustles
My long plaid pants,
Touching the ends of my hair.
I walk slowly, rejoicing at this day.