only the trees know

                                         where our shoes have slid

and only the wind whispers

                                                       where we’re to go

only the ground beneath

                                                      kn­ows the silence i

finally felt like i

                                  understood

and leaving strikes a cord within me that strives to never have been hit,

a chime along the wind similar to a smile and a cry - if you are strained,

- it is heard by the pained,

and if you sift through knowledge, deep down you’ll find,

that anything and everything i say is just a curated lie,

a half fled answer to our incomplete reality,

and the love that i say i have,

but i am empty,

except for the music that is kept within me.


and i’ll say to myself that people will remember;

in december when the nights are long and hot,

and when the air seems to have memory

but they will not, and i will be alone once again,

with the melody that makes up my heart.

how many more
                
          drying days

                              until your name is just

       recycled little letters

                           sprinkled in my
  
        lonely language?

beats are pulsing through lit eyes
that see amber
coated in a hand
that looks like honey
underneath the
yellow streetlights
a small head sticks out a
moving car window
on a still darkened evening
the only sound the
soft wind
and
the endless haunting unknown

every conversation silence and a side glance
a pandemonium of film
blinking rain away
that's what freedom is;
fleeting along the pretty grass
cold breath and sunshine

that's what freedom is

its ((music so loud)) cause it
((drowns out all those voices))

that's what freedom is
its a lie you pursue, its a promise lost to the flow
freedom'll fizzle out without a glow
it'll leave as a crow

cawing out across the abyss
to its ******

Panorama running pandemonium

placid petals peeling from peonies

pretty people playing but pacing

prone to pain, passing

like pages and palm leaves

planned to ***** and pale

emotions ring true over a battlefield

reckless and overcoming, flooding whilst barricaded

rushing endlessly, they light up our

black and white world

unwavering affection
stands a quiet loser on the sidewalk
peeling every line and every eye
just to help the mundane person live their daily life
it pedestals and admires
to a stranger who won’t know
paints a photo never taken


unwavering affection
has to fiddle and can’t sit still
a boiling *** of water never stopped to simmer
bubbling over but
never erupting

we collected magpie feathers and pretended we could fly

but mortals like us can really only die


a camaraderie built in the rain is one that will stain

the smallest starts and the deepest hearts

tomorrow exists forever, it wraps you in trust and repetition,

you plan for it to happen, it plays to your intuition,

but remember, things can lie just to get by,

on one of your tomorrows, all your cries will have been cried,

one of your tomorrows will be a dream never dreamt,

one of your tomorrows, tomorrows promise will be lent,

to another kid who wishes on tomorrow.

in mirrors i tend to stare, and I see a pair
of blank lies and blank eyes
my head tilts cause that person, sometimes i forget;
is me!
but i never say it proud, out loud
cause, heck

thats me

that person over there
lurking in the windows and the water
doesn't know who i am; anything about me
but heck,
i forget

thats me

Love is an unsaid message
backspaced in a text box
an unsent email
an unexpressed emotion
unwritten on a piece of paper

You can’t tally how many times ‘I love you’ was left on my lips, lingering
I just couldn’t find a time that was right, during the late of night,
an endless battle with myself, i can’t ever win
because i’m my worst enemy

Time is a healer, wounds run away from it
a slow, crawling healer, it has no magic,
no power and no ability,
yet time is a healer

Drifting away, you can’t tally how many times ‘where are you’ was left on my lips, lingering
I just never said it, because it was the middle of the bustling day
an endless battle with myself, i can’t ever win
because i’m my worst enemy

Time is a breaker, love runs away from it
a slow, crawling breaker, it has no magic,
no power and no ability,
yet time is a breaker

A bracelet beaded in nothing but love
Hanging loosely on the wrist
Seeing everything that you will
Through the sun, through the mist

Knotted slightly wrong, you know it was made by someone
who stared at the petals and took so long
threading the thin white string through
the subtle white, red purple and dark blue

Its not the blood dripping from the bites
Its not the emptiness


A single thought that you cant stop rethinking
It grows and it lurks, it hurts
A memory blanched in bleach,
it changes colours when you're not watching


And it follows you into a different grey room
and sneaks up on you when you're all alone
In the harsh rain, you cant see it and you cant fight it
Its a familiar scent, something itching behind your eyelids


All accumulating in a corner you'll never watch
Sneaking on all the floorboards that wont creak
Hiding in plain sight

And petals, they fall from the trees like pink rain that isn't wet,
suspended in wind, they drift from the sky.
They fall, searching for an answer, invisible to the average passer by, but lighting up a writers shining eyes,
who puts their palm out, in all whispering wonder,
for a glimpse of beauty as it leaves to fly in the spring wind.

Floating

Here. it’s where i’ll always be.

In this grey space i get visited.
I get plagued by the weather in my head, and sometimes, it drowns me
Can’t count how many times you’ve been here
Standing beside me

When you're awake, it's a single string of text, repeating.
A single musical sting that you can hear against the polluted silence - that isn't ever silent.
They're always wriggling. Always eating.


An imaginary sensation,
You can feel but you cant touch.
An imaginary illusion.
You can see but you cant touch.


Things tend to be like that,
Like ideas,
Always elusive.


Pretty things don’t lie still; they haunt, they stare.
In the static,
you can hear them whispering.


earworms.

and i suppose

all the days where i was angry, all the days where we weren’t fine,

don’t replay in my mind anymore.

it’s a slow beating heart, waiting for someone,

closing your eyes in the dark, nothing less than what you do every day,

a slow pulling desire you never act on, bounded by strings that you have strung up in sleep,

a slow pulling thought tying up everything loose.

And for the endless river that nobody can see, you’re in it, thigh deep, walking.

i guess you just learn how to swim at some point.

i guess you become your own life buoy.

the slimy algae beneath your paddling feet, you lost your grip,

a long time ago.

And the wind outside, it’s speaks against the window frame,

a reflection of the desolate mind.

the quiet pedestrian who ventures in the dark,

avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk, they stroll,

they watch the grass blow in the night,

swaying in the light of the moon.

The cars on the freeway will howl,

the silence polluted, the mind unempty and yet, dead,

like a lethargic bug, crawling along the dirt,

overtired and yet unsleeping.

Leaving someone in the dark like that, while your fingers are interlaced in a web of made up trust,

do you think the people left at the bottom of the hole, the other end of the line, do they survive?

Do you think they can ever learn to try again?

And you ended up liking books and boys, I ended up here, without everything I gave to you,

a part of my love gone forever,

lost to the void, a broken toy, a plan with no ploy,

a difference becoming what id always feared, you became someone I could never be; never see,

someone id stay away from, swear to never know, never show,

forgive but never forget, hurt but never regret.

In the dark, we left each other in no words and no burns, almost as if we never knew one another,

parts of our selves intertwined within identity that became our own,

without a relationship to atone,

we fizzled out, like popsicles melted on a hot sidewalk,

our conversations talked, our journey chalked.