I forgot that I’ve
completely forgotten your voice...
I blocked your sound out
not by necessity, but choice.

Apologies must be much too hard
for my hindsight to be this clear.
I see you— now lit by my distant sanity
and despondent dreer.

distance between our graves
spacious and airy—
leave our kids to sing
“vivere volumus permanere”

Shall we take a walk,
my lady? I am but taken aback!
You are truely a maiden as they say!
With eyes suited for stargazing.

Walk me through your garden—
shall I be a foot shorter, as you see it?
Perhaps I shall believe in magic
alongside kids.

Fair and just, just as my father says.
Perhaps he should meander through
your world and command me
in a suitable direction at once...

at last.

To run through the grasses, grasses of tall blades of purple and emerald.
Splendid views from the final steps.

With weeks passing, each step guiding me to the final destination, time blurred.
So much monotony bring the worst out
in weak-willed men.
A hike of millions of inches.

A backpack full, practically dragging my shoulders to the ground,
Always eliciting shouts of impending scoliosis.
Yet after three days, the bag blended in with the air.

My apologies can never
be as loud as they should,
apparently I must die
to show I’ll never be good.

Hit me.

Let me have
something to take
my mind off
everything else.

Your hair no longer
waves in the wind,
locks pin straight
from the overbearing gravity.

Bold yellow curls,
turn beige to match
the sand you blend into—
with eyes blue like the sea.

I scribbled you love
the only way I knew how—
in verses and rhyme.

Found my handwriting
on discarded scrap paper...
didn’t even blink.

I can’t feel my toes,
but you are asleep!
I could not move you
if I tried— I’m weak.

“Shall we live—
just to see if we can?”

She grinned wickedly,
lips touching both ears.

She posed the question
as if I went by “Eve,”

And so I said “why not?”
then tried my hardest.

But alas,
she was nothing but a parasite.

Set adrift on the rivers of wind,
to course through empty gravity
while drawing in flames like moths.

We touch down—- not with a bang.
But with negative.
Lack of sight, mind, and everything in between.

I pry eyes from my future scars, lit up with pain.
The sun blinds me while I lay on my back
only to see vision digressing into millions of stars.

He spoke to me as if an angel.
Not a single limb left to count on,
but still secured to the newly vermillion seat.

“Fear can’t hurt you
any more than this dream,” he said—
voice seeping through the nightmare.

He dripped.
Along with the will from his eyes,
before his body hit the ceiling.

And with him, down fall sanity.
Not to be confused with humanity—
the greatest temptress of them all.

I think a year ago
you borrowed a dollar from me.
You forgot to give it back...
I think?
I don’t really remember.

It’s funny,
the only two people
in the whole world
that would care—
and we don’t even remember

Is it the caffeine
or the hunger that’s keeping
me up every night?

They call me a special name.
They call me a meteorite,
and I know I can fly forever.

I stumbled through the haze,
my feet searing with each step.
I couldn’t collapse
or I’d lose my skin,

Mumbles, from women dressed heavy,
“Looks like the bear got her…”
What bear?
Why didn’t the buildings cast a shadow?

No more sun. That’s all I beg,
no more greetings of warm smiles
with “She sure is a-beaming!”
flooding the desert.

The barn was up in flames.
I reach my hands out to the red
and feel a chill roll by me,
with fire giving me the shade I needed.

Lizards roasted in their pools,
horses sweat off saddles,
and here I meander all through town
practicing for my time down below.

bullet in my brain,
even before you shoot me
i’m already dead.

who cares!

I’m dangling.
I’ve been hanging
for so long
my arms don’t have
the strength
to carry on...
yet here I dangle.

We travel a path
winding or an arrows-aim,
we all go down our journey—
don’t mind me! I’m just
traipsing around this forest aimlessly,
I bid you no harm.
Allow me to lie down
and be one with the muck!

And as it appears,
I’ve gone and lost my mind and
can’t remember where

Let me speak your name,
tune birds sung for centuries—
my morning lullaby

With a beating heart,
we finally speak goodbyes—
and not say a word

Join me in the woods.
We will walk halfway to death,
then turn and drift back.

The brume dripped down the hills in inevitable
swaths, with mist dispersing across the
town, yet with no more room left to run.
I sifted through the fog dancing across
my windshield, with vision blurred from
headlights looking me deep in the eye.
Shepherded by racing heart, I spotted a
glow through the murky negative. A flame.
The red licks to the heavens stole my arms,
swerving my car out of the lane. I threw
my eyes to the source of the embers just to
identify a street light blinking at me, the haze
softening its edges. I laughed to the beat
of the music echoing softly through my
vehicle, after I bid my goodbyes to the
tale of potential heroism that floated
away with the wisps.

The story of you is a tale of woe—
I collected her things, all safely been stown.
When we first met, my mother taught me to sew,
and with your blood, I must let her go.

Empty promises,
from an empty girl—
with a grin she’ll say
“I’ll give you the world!”

How is this “joy” question
the hardest to answer?
I could spit hundreds of verses,
and still read hundreds fancier.

I have no way to see joy—
besides the elusive glimpse.
Each night, under every moon,
the freedom of no job to do since
the long-gone high expectations vanished,
leaving my smiles drawn from circumstance.

Joy escapes me as a runaway train,
while you can find joy in things—
from which— I’ll politely abstain.

Nothing good ever
happens to me.
Perhaps it’s a
self-fulfilling prophecy!

Ah, what a life for me!
Everything and nothing—
both to the extreme!

I’m begging you—
don’t give up on me

please

Silk coated the plush,
your warm hands to greet me.
Soft caresses of my hair,
from a girl with hands softer.

Sunlight drifting in,
soft gold flakes dancing just for us—
warm open windows
to attract the sounds of society,

off-white, draping robes cover
lace-clad thighs—
smoother than thought possible.
All there for me to caress.

Time in molasses...
nowhere to be,
nobody to please,
except, of course, Her.

“Why are you still here?” They ask me,
when I say life bears me no intrigue,
“It’s simply all I know,” I say—
which is just about all I can manage today.

today, I existed—

my apologies.

I don’t want this,
I just want to want something

If I could reach out…
If I could grab your face.

If I could tense long-limp
muscles, fused to my sides.
If only I could pull my arm
away from the chains that bind me...

If I could be free where would I go?
no family, no home.
If I could reshape my life,
who would I mold myself to be?

A world built of the word “if.”
If only I could change that...

It’s the hunger that drives the Wolf and I
out— all across the icy expanse of tundra.
We stop at the edge. Just for a moment.
One look into each other's eyes, both of us
knowing the other doesn’t taste very good.

And so it begins.

Loving you has
become routine

I can’t break
routine, can I?

To be an assassin dispersing
into the crowded city street,
to blend into the masses
with a finger on the trigger—
simply because it’s your first instinct

Curiosity killed the cat,
at least that’s so they tell me,
but alas! the 22 to your catch—
he must die to meet his cell-mate

Optimism, a fun game
for children and the bored.
I keep my goals tame,
while I shake in the cold.

Afternoon… night.
My goal only for life.
A future of delight,
good job and good wife

See, “I am no pessimist”,
that, while brushing a future away.
Forever claiming I’m a realist—
we know all good things never stay

Don’t get hopes high,  
and there you will never feel surprise

It was the dropping hairs,
falling from your all-too-tight ponytail
that made me love you—
you and your mess.

The Morning Sun,
cuddled close to the Chill,
two monarchs—
deeply in love.

Pour water on a table.
Watch it roll off the sides with ease,
confidently flowing in every
direction at once.

Spot the little droplet left,
there you’ll find the
collection of apathetics,
begging to, at last, evaporate.

To be a stagnant lake,
just waiting to touch the sun.
Your serve no purpose on earth
in the sky, your life’s begun