You were the kettle to my water
My sanctuary
The vessel of the walls where I found a warm embrace
I was well aware of your heat and I loved you
But there was a point
A boiling point
In which you never whistled for warning
I will always question why you
boiled me to steam that day.
Why you committed to have me vanish without proper reason.
I know you heard the gurgling to my cries
As I pleaded for you to tell me why
The last of me left with an echo
That searched for an answer
in a hollow souled container.

Life
Live it as humanly as you come.
Survive
Through your evolution
Even when it starts working backwards.

I will be here, I will be right here
Waiting on closure with the pungent smell of my rotting corpse.
You will not see me decompose from up there. You will only feel me as close as the dirt between us.
Our distance divided by the living maggots that have been birthed from my body's existence
Crawling and feeding on me in manifestation.
My body still young but my heart too fragile to run it.
I will be here with the smell of sweet fragrance on my rotting meat.
Waiting on the sound of your pitter patter rummaging through the leaves as you take a seat in front of my stone.
And I will know you are here when your visit awakens my demons from its hunger to your flesh covered in remorseful scent.

What a tremble she brings
She breaks up the ground beneath
her like a harrow
Come forth my way and lock your stare in the empty safes of my gaze
Place your most valuables here
Let me be your keeper
Come forth my way
Lessen the vastness of your distance
Every step you take,
Turns my patience turns into persistence
What a quake she makes
She slopes me off the ground I stand on  
I slip away, defiant of the
gravity that rules me
The sky has won its battle before me
Look at me, an astronaut to your space
Stuck in an orbit when your
body comes to place.
In my attempt to escape the earth indefinitely, it does not return me easily.
Though, I wish your presence would keep me up there, your absence
drives the earth to pull me
with all its might
As I incinerate into the atmosphere as a result to its fight.

I am the who hides like a hermit at the shell of my typewriter
With the sound of bells and rings to each of my lines
I am well aware I was born at the wrong era of time
I know that my soul is much older than my mind
I make mistakes,
some worse, some better,
than we all make in life
It’s a crumble, a throw-away
Another paper to replace
As I start fresh with my chin
and shoulders held high
Unplugged to the noise
that comes from outside
Fingers placed delicately in line
As they wait for the command
of my thoughts arranging in order
Composing the keys that pound
against the ink ribbon
Chick-chick-chaw-chick-chick-bing
An orchestration of the typewriter as my mind begins to sing
I am moved by the utterance
of my own typing
Fingers dancing to every beat
And for that reason I will always be writing
In a room
with grey walls
sitting on a wooden seat.

Make a wish
Another blown candle
to my so called golden year
Another wish in earths rotation to the same life long inauguration
When is the house and picket fence sent?
In blown candles of wishes after wishes?
Doubt after doubt
it becomes so repetitious ?
When does your pockets grow?
In blown candles of riches after riches
Til you become so poor
you sleep under the bridges
When is love sent?
In blown out candles of loneliness
Carrying a familiar scent to its smokey extinguishment?
Oh life,
Light me up instead
but not like a birthday candle
No, No
Light me like a night candle
Like the flame you wouldn't separate
from its source upon lighting

Relief has an odd way of treating you
It brings itself in small dosage
It is like a medicine you must drink every
few hours, with or without a meal
And even then,
Its comfort may not be enough
I looked for the full dosage of relief
but I never found it
So I looked to forget
And forgetting has a way of treating your
symptoms altogether
But it is not a medicine
It is a poison you are required
to drink only once
And only then
will its comfort be enough.