let me carry your picture
  in my wallet,
let me carry your words
  in my mind,
let me tattoo these maps
  on my body,
so I drop anchor,
  this time,
  deep down into the fabric of reality,
a dead weight,
  holding my soul,
  strong chains,
  falling through these beautifully fatal waves,
  as winds bring wings to sweep me away
Let me hold your dreams
  in my heart,
Let me tend the deck you walk,
  lest it splinter apart.
For when this weather breaks,
  no matter light, no matter dark,
  we sail
when this weather breaks,
  we sail

For so long it was wrong
And it was so wrong that night
But How can I heal this?
Set this right?
Let the wounds breathe
And **** off the fight

Do you see a ****** bandage
If you look my way?
And is that ****** memory,
What makes you turn away?

Should I cut up the bandage?
And show you that there’s skin?
It’s scarred, but it works,
And it’s a place to begin

this beautiful wilderness
it will **** you
unflinching
wild waters raging higher in an instant
clouding your vision
til your gone
compost for those meadow flowers
no longer beautiful
unbeheld

summer descent
of a rocky lakeland path
astride a lively river,
   flowing low
with its winter underbelly exposed
tumbling down
meandering round
expansive sheets of smooth sun-dried stone,
which yearn for the touch of human skin.

cool, soda water pool,
memory of winter ice
tired feet, enveloped,
drink as they dangle in.

You live a different life to me.
You queue to cross a mountainous sea, under stars you struggle to believe in.

I roll out of a calm bed, hungry, and without a lifejacket, tipped over by turbulent thoughts.
The electric light illuminates my fridge (the stars are long forgotten)
and that hum keeps me from sleep.

Perhaps we can ally, you and I,
so you might make a midnight meal one day,
and worry about stagnation.
Perhaps we could gaze into the stars of each other’s soul.

Perhaps it is you, faceless shadow,
inhabiting the blind spot of my mind’s eye.
Perhaps it is you that wakes me.
Perhaps it is you in the dark that I must hold up a candle to.
Perhaps you are a part of me, and I am as yet un-whole.
Perhaps the Earthly distance gives us a mask to wear,
with TVs where the eyes should be.

Many faces, an illusion of separation, one soul
Won’t you help me to help you,
won't you help me?

I was visited by an Angel,
who knew the way.
But she flew my bed,
ere break of day.

And as the sun illuminates my eyes,
I see farther,
but feel less wise.
Imagined perfection,
meets demise,
A fading image,
Of the night.

But yet this sun,
Is the father of my life.

Amidst all the hustle and bustle of the biggest city in the world.
Amidst all the turmoil of rooms being booked to make the most efficient use of time and space.
This place got overlooked.

I'm in an empty classroom,
Alone.

The empty chairs,
A quiet reminder,
This place is used to more.
But I'm in an empty classroom,
And my thoughts are my own.

I feel illicit.
And excited.
And inspired.
I feel like becoming, the people I admire.

The space is defiantly alive,
There's new stacks of papers each night.
I feel in touch with the beauty of society,
But safe from its vice.
I barricade myself behind battlements of books.

My presence will almost certainly go undetected,
No one will notice the slight shift in the desks and chairs.
But I feel connected.
There is a shared spirit, that lives in the air.

I breath in the ghosts of the day time,
Their raucous noise nothing but a whisper, now.
I don't dislike those ghosts,
I'm just thankful for this time to play alone with the possibility
Of creation.

Away from idle chitterlings.
Their whispering ghosts make me relish this stolen time all the more.
I've got until the sun sinks, sinks, sinks into the deep dark.
I've got a candle, I've got my heart.
until sunrise.

And hopefully someday,
someone will feel,
In the midst of their new delight
The spirit of
the ghost of night.

I'm in an empty class,
Alone,
In the spaces left over,
I feel at home.