a part of me
has love
whatever it is

i remember having none of it
when i myself
was nothing

i'm still nothing
but a part of me has gained
whatever love is

and he does stupid things
and sometimes he's brilliant
no one else makes the mundane
beautiful
even with the rose colored glass
rammed into his corneas

and he writes nice poems
and nice songs
and i like to think
this is all me

but in the end
not a single part of me
can ever do
whatever the **** that guy does

all i really do
is watch
when i get the chance

somehow, i'm glad
that i'm an audience
to my own
drama theatre

but then i remember
that there is only one
viewer and actor
all in one

and the others are blue
or grey in their worst
they do nothing
but rot
and ruin furniture

but i'm really glad
a part of me
has love
whatever it is

and i'm keeping him for a while
just so i feel
i'm not as nothing
as before

i wish i truly loved you

i wish that i wasn't broken
wasn't desperate
for an anything
as everything

i wish i didn't have
a bleeding heart
that wanted so badly
something to patch
all the wounds

i wish i knew
what was real
so that i wouldn't be so rash
at poking everything
remotely anything

i wish it was you
or her
or him
or a glass of water
or a photograph

or a music piece
or a sunset

(i wish i didn't think that either)

i wish
that enough
was real
for me

i wish
that real
was real
for me

and i wish
i truly loved you
truly

he wept then
the light from the streetlamps
blinded him

it was painful
but it was not as painful
as saturday
with an empty bottle
of *****

he wept then
and it was acid
went out spewing out
from his eyes
his mouth
on the side of the avenue

it was painful
to let the dumb demons in
to let the dumb demons out
and the ensuing hangover
came from all those demons
chewing off the pavement

and he wept
and threw up
and let go

i heard
they fall to this world
to heal our wounds
we are demons
we are children

waiting for sunlight
waiting for tea
sitting in the grass
while everything turns

and all the notes sing
of broken hearts
with broken fingers
making landscapes
how could it be

that you fell to this world
you angel
you gave up heaven
for hell
your everlasting light
gone
so that you wouldn't blind
anyone

i only hope
it's not for nothing
dear angel
we only hope

snap, goes the shutter
and their poses relax

this is a nice spot, she said
her fiancée too busy
brushing the duff off his shoe

i know, i said
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦

two oaks meet in the center
of a cobbled path
an arch of branches
a handshake
a kiss
its canopy
mottled with the early
yellow, red
the post-summer
four o'clock sun
shining through cathedral windows
the illuminations
waiting for their cue
and so were they

and i wound my camera to it's next frame
ready, point
a wind blows from the left
and the stained glass shatters

snap, goes the shutter
and they frolicked at the sight
of the falling leaves

they picked the perfect time
for a photoshoot
the first hours of pre-autumn
when the branches are still clothed
before ******* for winter

******* ******
got the best deal

smile for the camera
floating above you
there are flowers
everywhere

while they whisper to us
the sacred lines
a litany
to color the scene

hold up your palms
for the falling stars
the party's just ended
and you must go
don't wait for the cue
just run
trample the petals

we will reach you by morning time
before the lunch bells ring
and your hands will be scarred
but it will be beautiful

we'll cut the scene there
as the music plays
it was nice
being somewhere else