I wrote this haiku
Just to prove a point in words:
No one reads these days.

Éclair My Heart

Fill me up with custard’s glow,  
soft as secrets whispered low.  
Chocolate coat our midnight vows,  
each bite a bow that time allows.  

Glossy tease of vanilla sighs—  
declare your love in pastry cries.





.

I woke up early that day
but once I peeled open my eyes
realisation clouded them
as reality blinded me,

I fell asleep that day
despiration pulling me away
from the atrocities of the waking world
as I lay in bed crying and wailing,

A bit of me died with you that day
as my heart did fall apart
solemn and invisible
but I still feel you now
and know you never left
because I woke up early that day
to spend more time with you.

smoke
from a nearby chimney
subliminally
merged with the fog that spoke covering
like protection
but indeed looked like
silencing screams from the wild.

Everything what goes up must come down. The only thing on this earth that doesn't is your age.

You told me you missed me,
but that was a lie,
because the only thing you missed,
was the ability to play with my mind.

I ease myself into the uncomfortable.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

My soul screams for help,
I wanna tell someone,
but I’m all by myself.
Autumn comes.
The leaves fall and so do I.
It’s dark and cold and all I wanna do is cry.
Leaves are covering the ground,
I can hear the storm with all its sounds.
When spring comes there’s new life in the tree.
But I don’t know if there’s ever a new spring in me.
  -Enna

The Devil
Doesn’t tear you down
He builds you up
Until

You believe you can
Do it alone
Then he smiles
As you fall

And you always fall

When the world appears in shades of gray,  
Spread joy in every possible way.  
A kind word, perhaps a smile,  
Can make a heart dance for a while.

Our spirits shine through simple acts,  
A loving touch, a friendly pact.  
Make the world your cherished friend,  
Share laughter, and a helping hand.

With open hearts and open minds,  
Let’s embrace all the goodness we find.  
In every moment, large and small,  
Spreading joy lifts us all.

Mortal life we can't escape,
death is the eternal fate.

Every day's a feeling grave,
constant minutes we can't save.

Fill your life with joy and friends,
happiness that never ends.

Friends and foes with highs and lows,
feel the Earth beneath your toes.

Fate is one we can't escape,
but we can make the small things great.

Memento Mori.

Time is but a dance
Yet we sit in chairs all day
I sat this one out.

I hate to say.

The I is capitalized and spaced off from love

Some say
Don't set yourself ablaze
To keep others warm.

Why not?
Be the light
While keeping form.

Make yourself
Fireproof,
A vessel for any flame.

Take heart
Forge your path
Without any shame.

Take heed
The trail of ashes
Along the way.

Take to
The skies
Come what may.

Keep pace
Like clockwork,
The stars in sight.

It's time
To be the fireproof
Beacon of light.

To romanticize a life
That never was and never has
A life unlived but loved
Lies wrapped in fantasies

Suddenly walking the street
Softly, calmly, a normal speed
Why is it every time I dream,
I get interrupted by the sound

Of an interior not designed
An exterior not built for the light
A romantic life, but never mine.

So out of touch,
Lost, out overlooking sea.
Adrift, alone —
Cast out, wayside of the rift.
Scream, beg, but no sound.

Tired, futile to ease,
One foot forward, drag the back.
Adrift, alone —
Struck down, caught by the plague.
Scream, beg, but vacuum surrounds.

So uneasily unstable,
A crumbling world, can't fix the cracks.
Adrift, alone —
Fallen once, an angel, now trapped.
Scream, beg, but alas,

No sound.

At life's next threshold
I can live my questions now
Not drowned in answers

It went quiet
Not because it gave up
Bt because it was saving me.

It felt too much
So it chose silence
Over shuttering.

It held the storm
Behind closed doors
So I could keep breathing.

It's not numb
Just protecting
What's still healing

angels
are
the
architects
that
dangle
the
soft white clouds
like
marionettes
that
dangle
their
puppets upon a string
while
whispering still
through
the
heavenly clouds

Mirror mirror
On the wall
Will they love me
After all?

Mirror mirror
On the wall
Will I ever love me
Once and for all.

Quel temps de chien ! - il pleut, il neige ;
Les cochers, transis sur leur siège,
Ont le nez bleu.
Par ce vilain soir de décembre,
Qu'il ferait bon garder la chambre,
Devant son feu !

A l'angle de la cheminée
La chauffeuse capitonnée
Vous tend les bras
Et semble avec une caresse
Vous dire comme une maîtresse,
" Tu resteras ! "

Un papier rose à découpures,
Comme un sein blanc sous des guipures.
Voile à demi
Le globe laiteux de la lampe
Dont le reflet au plafond rampe,
Tout endormi.

On n'entend rien dans le silence
Que le pendule qui balance
Son disque d'or,
Et que le vent qui pleure et rôde,
Parcourant, pour entrer en fraude,
Le corridor.

C'est bal à l'ambassade anglaise ;
Mon habit noir est sur la chaise,
Les bras ballants ;
Mon gilet bâille et ma chemise
Semble dresser, pour être mise,
Ses poignets blancs.

Les brodequins à pointe étroite
Montrent leur vernis qui miroite,
Au feu placés ;
A côté des minces cravates
S'allongent comme des mains plates
Les gants glacés.

Il faut sortir ! - quelle corvée !
Prendre la file à l'arrivée  
Et suivre au pas
Les coupés des beautés altières
Portant blasons sur leurs portières
Et leurs appas.

Rester debout contre une porte
A voir se ruer la cohorte
Des invités ;
Les vieux museaux, les frais visages,
Les fracs en coeur et les corsages
Décolletés ;

Les dos où fleurit la pustule,
Couvrant leur peau rouge d'un tulle
Aérien ;
Les dandys et les diplomates,
Sur leurs faces à teintes mates,
Ne montrant rien.

Et ne pouvoir franchir la haie
Des douairières aux yeux d'orfraie
Ou de vautour,
Pour aller dire à son oreille
Petite, nacrée et vermeille,
Un mot d'amour !

Je n'irai pas ! - et ferai mettre
Dans son bouquet un bout de lettre
A l'Opéra.
Par les violettes de Parme,
La mauvaise humeur se désarme :
Elle viendra !

J'ai là l'Intermezzo de Heine,
Le Thomas Grain-d'Orge de Taine,
Les deux Goncourt ;
Le temps, jusqu'à l'heure où s'achève
Sur l'oreiller l'idée en rêve,
Me sera court.

It didn't matter if it was
August, and the air felt like an
oven on broil, or if it was
February, and the dumpsters
were icecicles to the soul.
We needed *****, and since we
didn't have jobs, the cans, at
5 cents a piece were our
aluminum tickets to sweet relief.
The magic click.
Enough cans meant a bottle of
whiskey
*****
gin,
anything to dull the
sharp, vivid pain of life.

We sifted through
cat ****
catsup
***** diapers
discarded ***** mags,
and all the other
garbage from the
rich and the poor.

One winter morning,
I threw back a heavy metal lid,
and there was a fat
raccoon looking up at me.
If Bacchus or Dionysus were
smiling, we found a
full bottle.
It happened once in
a while during summer when
the college kids headed home.

Miles of walking,
freezing or burning up,
We were the aluminum
cowboys.

came first
plastic
then
immoral
loneliness
then
said a whale
to a whale
scratch
your eye
with mine
we’ve seen
for weeks
god
pass
for silence
in the apple
death
of brief
eels