Most women
Want to stab me in the back
But she didn't
She was just confused
The moment she held the knife
The world went quiet
Her heart throbbed a little
Better to take the pain
Than to take a life
Right?

Come and weep,
Silently, tears will guide you to sleep,
As your lover comes to know,
The grave of water's undertow.
Another claimed,
In the name of explorer's fame,
A name, that once you pass on,
Will be all but gone.
Not a soul has ever carried it as close,
As you have for so long.

Don't be foolish,
Staring at the sea,
He is truly gone,

Even when the fleet comes rolling in,
You won't have that kiss at dawn,
He promised you as he left.
So hang your lonesome head,
The worst is yet to come,
Fill his grave with sea things,
It's all that's left of him anymore.
Your life together,
Now ancient lore,
Lock it up,
Before you wake up.

do you wish to stay in bed today?

yes

has it all been a bit much?

yes

will it be letting the side down?

yes i guess so. i will decide in a minute.

Why do I walk?
For exercise;
For an influx of oxygen?
No.
For poetry’s sake —

Each step I take
Unlocks thoughts from the deep,
And I reach in to take a peep.
What peers back
Is not a gasp,
Not a rasp rattling:
“Get back to walking!”
But a friend, 
Who hears my thoughts
And welcomes them —

Who says: once more,
“Yes! Here we go again”
And by the time I stop
At my destination,
I've taken those steps,
And released my vocation
With unequivocal elation —

when the world gets unbearable I retreat into the purity of words
do I own this heart or she owns me
an excedent of beats today as if I was traversed by an invisible sigh
my thoughts are a nomadic population searching for a soil without fear
death presents itself as an indifferent character, a secondary thing, an involuntary business, the latest fashion
who cares about the pain of the air
the skin of hours can hardly hold minds under siege
nights melt time like wax while I need to look at helplessness from a different angle
an unpredictible trajectory decides for the mornings we wake up into
there is space in the centre of words while the sky is eroded by death's toys
the eyes stand in the way some say we must die on earth to be born in the sky,  the sky disagrees, the dust clots
there are patches of blue sky somewhere, there is enough silence to hear the explosions in one's head or the augmented beauty of sleep
power miscalculates its claims in the impermanence of bones