Halt,  you can't proceed with no salt
Nobody's perfect, everybody got fault
Try to reach perfection and you find it's locked up in a vault
You can't proceed with no salt
You don't try too hard you just make mistakes by default
If you knew the real god is in you and is you, would you still kneel and exalt

give up the settled plains,

love a broken mountain,

for as long as you can.

dive straight into broken hands.

love a mystery, with a promised hand.

a certain loss can make amends.

that kind of voice was made to lend.

making love or making friends?

we're all star-crossed and loveless,

but we still sing in the rain.

some times all i can be,

is all that keeps me sane.

O’sweet babe

sister’d to her  

many forms


In each shape

she had found

a new way

to change my world


But held her love

In a shapeless void

to fall
but slow to leave
just as sap on the tree
I bleed amber honey

I’m quick
to jump
but slow to think
just as a frog
in a blink
I make a splash

I’m quick
to carry
all this weight
but slow to empty
what’s on my plate

Roses are grey
Violets are grey
When you look at them in a certain way

It's true.


All the things I did - and could not - say
Now put aside by time, I will say now.

I finally see the multicolours of your life

Of you.

When I’m gone, walk my dog on the beach in the early morning.  
Let him see me in the sunrise, feel me in the pulling tide, smell me in the salty winds.

I love you
not because you try to pick up the pieces
you allow me to do that on my own
you know I am too prideful to ask for help
you stand along my side and hold me as
I fix the distress I have gathered over time
and when I drop my needle and thread
you are patient

better lock your doors
past the vibrated floors
of an argument gone wrong in bed
journey into the world
of the introverted bird
for some things are better left
unsaid.

unleashing your anger
piled into relationship danger
for not slipping the lock and key
best to lock it up tight
for things unsaid just might
be better to swallow down
in liquor and internal winery.

partake in these writings
where irritation comes biting
like fire ants in the summer breeze
"better left unsaid" flows with ease
another glass til it becomes more exciting.

just like that you're officially sunk
reserved, considerate and possibly drunk
probably in that same old bed
thinking of which book is unread,
still pondering the possibility
that there's a rule so silly
as
"better left unsaid."

the wheather was cold until your eyes
I do not understand
One bird was frozen
I think my heart