Do you
see
me?

Sitting alone
in
the
dark.

My breath
hitched
and
frozen.

Throat closed
unable
to
breathe.

Eyes quivering
against
rabid
thoughts.

Hands shaking
from
irrational
beliefs.

Muscles tight
fearful
of
death.

Eyebrows furrowed
from
incomprehensible
mumblings.

Nightmares exposed.

Do you
see
me?

Here I am bleeding again
Taken aback by mortal fear.
                     Staring at faith
                   Staged by hope--
Pouring rain on visceral cage–
               The sound of deep
                       Calling to deep.

Repressed feelings buried by time.
Epitaph reads on the forgotten grave:

"Here lies the child now grown.
  His hopes and dreams
       Dashed to pieces.
  This is where the child died."

I often hear the Mystic Keeper
        Calling from night
And tradition calling from artificial light

As I run through scorched barren
                          Fields of doubt.

Walking barefoot over these coals
    Crouching low
                   To hide my eyes

As I run    
         And as I hide    
  From what has already been revealed--
The tombstone says it all.

When I am out on the water
Lost in the Channel fog
I often see fleeting glimpses of
                White cliffs of hope
Like the white cliffs of Dover
Shining on the edge of Melancholy Sea. 
But they often turn out to be
Withered white
     Seeds of religious platitudes.

      And then there is the ready reflection
Of the looking glass
        That often tricks the beholder.
For in it truth is not seen.
What is seen is graffiti of soul
       Hiding the crumbling
                         Cracks of age–

The threshold where
         Sanity meets its end.

Isolation has become
       A shining steel blade
Cutting deep
    Into the heart of hearts.

Nothing lives after amputation.
Depending on emotional prosthetics--
Phantom pain
                  When nothing is there.

But in the midst of these devastations
I am learning to take--

     Howbeit reluctantly--

The hand of trust and grace.
Allowing
            Hope to build
      A fortress for dreams…
Set boundaries better
       Than no control at all.

I'm sure the stars creation
Held only a little of the feeling
We have
The stars no longer fleeting
We gave the stars their meaning
Here and now
Is everytime
And anytime is only what we make

And should those stars not shine tonight
Should they ever collide
Would they fall into black holes
Or simply collapse
We are
And all time is now

I'll be waiting for you
At the ends of time
And the edges of the universe

It once was darkness
Once was light
Its all your thoughts
Its always right
Its all gone wrong
In all ways right

And would those stars all shine tonight
Should they bring us light
Would a galaxy surround them
The stars that gave life
Give us music
And the song that plays forever

All time is now

I'll be waiting for you

Maybe some people walk backwards because
they 're too afraid to see what's ahead.

hilarious,
when you try
to ink it
being a foreigner
to a language...

you search
for the round spell
of a word
and to your mind
comes, oh my,
only one
- squash!

but oh!,
the buttery sound of it,
the reddish orangeness of it,
the elyptic splashes in wood
scented fields, november cold
mornings, that yearn
of a smoking cheminy,
home, others' home, there.

what was there to be inked?
i don't recall it.
i got squashed.