The darker my dreams get
the less I look for the light.

I can only see the duality
between my perceived reality
and the one you present
with the gravitas
of someone at the bottom of a pyramid scheme.

I wake from gravity slipping
from the rot surrounding me
to a reality where extorting naivety is a vice,
a reality where manipulation to avoid weakness
fell somewhere on the timeline of human progress.

Everything is meaningless
unless there's someone to tell you that it isn't.

Everything is meaningless
once someone tells you that you are
and it turns out to be true
because they’ve shown you the nature of man.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

listen up .......
Im folded nicely
not creased
there's a dangerous
difference!
ya feel me?

People say “get over it”
But aching hearts are screaming to be free.

People say “get over it”
But they are deaf to all the pleas.

People say “get over it”
But they don’t want those sad souls to succeed.

People say “get over it”
Because they want us to shut up and agree.

Hover sweet Heather, over the clover, under the thunder of the insect dragon.
Heal sweet Heather, heal the hurt, remove the dirt from my beer sausage; from my wretched, twisted and demented circuitry.

"Bring me my hot dog" my dear Debbie moans.
Morbid sighs, silken thighs, conceal the African butterfly.

"Buffy, Buffy , roughy toughy" the bit*h barks to her demanding dog friend.
"Buffy, Buffy, I've had enoughy!"

Painted lips, spill over hospital white. Chunks and hunks. Flotsam and jetsam of yesterdays lunch.

"Shaddap Shaddap!" her gray head shakes, quivers and quakes,
dispelling myths of flying flakes.
Dispersing moths, displaying snakes.

Her smile lights up
Even the rainiest of days

I spend too many nights thinking
Wondering, writing, dreaming
Of someone who doesn't even think of me

What end making measure
Of what has flown beneath
An eon is passed
Since the bridge
Was swept away

i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much

i want to love you
like a lazy sunday morning
staying in bed
taking our time
sipping coffee
memorising every freckle
like the constellations in the sky
white sheets
and tangled limbs
with the scent of a memory
fresh on our lips.

A beautiful girl
A heart full of gold
Has evil thoughts and stories untold
She cries tears on the inside
Sadness in her soul
Deeply confused
In an unknown world

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille

You are the violin & I am your bow.
You are the mountains & I am your snow.
I am the song sheet & you are my tune.
I am the night sky & you are my moon
I hold you in my heart, I have you on my mind.

You were the elusive dream, I tried to ensnare.
I was the light you couldn't bear.
You were the moth to my flame.
we both got burned.
As our story fades into a memory.
Adieu my heart.
Until the next life.

If only you could see what I saw when my eyes beheld you. Imperfect yet loyal, brave and wild.

She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote

My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
Waiting,
For the better parts.
Waiting,
For the “soon”.
Waiting,
For my life to begin.
Because,
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.

In another world, perhaps in another universe
I will be your always
your everyday
your home
your  safe zone.

Too bad that in this world
I was your yesterday
your past tense
your regret

Too bad that in this universe
I was the one before you met The One.

I'm sinking farther into the sea
Air cut off, unable to breathe

But it's not all too bad
The water's warm
and the fish look nice

It's a shame I can only see this
By myself
at the end.

You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

Perhaps it could be better
Or maybe even worse
Wherever this hungry letter  
Every gift has it’s curse
Revealing your truth in the end

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

the jealousy in his eyes turned me on
amusement played at my lips as I kept going on
drawling on about the artistry of the cigarette and the mouth
the quick-paced changed subject, the slight look to the left and to the right
my heart warms

Check message
Facebook
Check message
Instagram
Check message
Send message
Wait
Check
Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.