Blessed Ostara and Beltane,
as the sun shines and the earth rains,
let me let go.

Let me cleanse my feet in fresh soil
and kiss the wind with my whispers.
Let the world take it all from me
so I may bloom anew.

i know regret
and it tastes very much like grief
i know love
which, often,
is the same colour as relief.

tired eyes that feel
all the dreams that are too real;
coffee breaks the spell.

he glowed more than any god ever could - ever dared to;
it was no curse that I could not look away.

I will see your name when looking at the stars
I will remember you by your smile
I will hear you in silence
and feel you alone
and miss you
but know that you will never be forgotten by me

because the things you've taught me
they have redirected me

With effort, relent!
The ice will fracture Fall's bones -
the Winter's consent.

there is no room
on the moon
when you're floundering
in doom.

there is no reason
for the season
to stay
for your treason.

there is no way
I'd deny
I'm in love
when you cry.

I've never been drunk
on alcohol before.
But I have been drunk.

water dreams of space
so the moon can pull it close
into an embrace

we are young dreamers
walking in a wakeless plane
unaware of dawn

until the light breaks

i want to
unfold
and be read
like dead poetry

The old poets write of archaic heroes;
the old poets sing of tragedy and pain;
the old poets know of woe and triumph;
the old poets make words that forever remain.

The new poets dabble in life and in darkness;
the new poets scribble their madness on page;
the new poets read what the old poets wrote;
the new poets write out of freedom and rage.

I write to relive and I am doomed to re-die
if only the emerald would leave my eye,
and stain every plane of my memory's mind,
and promise every secret my future might find;

I write to give slivers of salt to the world
I long for the knowledge that I am doing this right
I write for the forlorn fire in the palm of my hand -

the protagonist
suffers loss of sanity
in this pandemic

my dowry is in the palm of my hand
and you cannot see it
but hold it and feel its worth.

the lilacs in bloom
remind me of spring's shortness;
neither do they last

Eternity is
like fruit that never ripens;
endlessly bitter.