The beautiful thing about poetry
Is that it doesn’t matter if anyone else enjoys reading it
I’m writing this for me
Not for you
And I feel better for it

But if my words
Bring joy to another
Then I suppose
That isn’t such a bad thing

This is a city with secrets
Surely it knows I'm in love
With one if it's residents
Who is playing hard to get
I can't get enough of her
I want her yes I do
It's just a matter of time
And time can be so cruel

I wander its cobblestones
Thinking what to do
Step by step I plan my moves
I try to play it cool
But this city knows I'm in love
And that I'm no fool
For she's the one
The only one
As I wander through
Its nooks and crannies
Under a jaunty sky of blue

I know I'd be good for her
She's perfection to me
We could live so happily
In this city of secrets
I have got to win her
I know she'll understand
She is my future
I am her man

I woke up from a nightmare
I could not stand to keep
to myself

you were stretched across the couch
coffee going cold on the table
a half finished cigarette
still burning

you wrapped me up
in kind words that
I could not bare
to hear

whispered into my ear
"one day we will go wandering
and this tiny house will overspill
with dreams'

you are not your memories, darling
you are not the bad things
that have been done to you
you are a fierce flame
that warms my heart

forget them, my love
they are nothing
and you, and you
are everything

Drawing lines on myself
with a knife in place of a pen,
wanting someone to see,
anyone to see.

Because no one sees
that my tears are a cry for help,
that whenever I make suicide jokes
they're less of joke
and more of a fantasy.
That I don't just wear sleeves all the time
because I'm constantly cold.

So I'll finish my sketch
and display it for everyone to see.
I hope everyone likes it.
Not everyone likes abstract art after all...

The man said nothing is real

While making a sweeping gesture with his right hand
It's a simulation he says, all of it, nothing is real

I remember as a kid singing row row your boat
Reminding me to be happy because life is a dream

Again the man states while gesturing, nothing is real
Strawberry Fields, nothing is real, nothing to get hung-up about

The Hindu call it Maya, all an illusion, nothing is real

Science gods working toward virtual reality
Where we can't tell simulation from life, nothing is real

I breathe in your fragrance
I blow out a field of freesias and forget me nots
I catch your smile with my hand
and release swallows and sunsets
I turn your eyes into stars
the night your sweetest silence