feel without needing you,
enjoy things you told me not to,
write poems that are no longer about you;

this is my first move.

On the road the son
Weeps on his father's silence;

Enjoy this.
Give focus.
Take pleasure.

Ritualise
each movement,
each breath.

And then
repeat.

Nothing dries out a ***** faster
than having three monitors
and a light up keyboard.

Travelling make us
More grateful
And appreciative
Of what we already have

I waited for the breeze
to ******* the fragrance of your hair
your curls were caught in the wind
your strands strangled me of air
I waited for the breeze
to ******* the scent of your skin
but the sweetest of oils from your pores
were diamanté drops dried by the wind
I waited for the breeze to bring me
the fresh breath of your mouth
The wind welcomed the smoke
I chocked, crying like a cloud

If you asked me, to get to you
which of the two would I cease?
I would have enslaved the wind
my love, and set free the breeze

I want to kiss her,

but not wake her up, because --


then she'll start talking.

awkwardly repellant,

of anything nourishing,

loving nothing but a cracked spine.

living useless unless you're upset.

i spend year-long nights,

watching stars spin across my face,

searching someone to stand,

that pathetic place you used to stay.

Was wrong all along
Drinking is a punishment
Not a true reward