There is something adjacent to love,
Something heartless.
The love without love.
The want.
The clouds, they shake,
And I shake with them,
Because I have nowhere to go.
Blood cools and blackens and it’s a good thing.
Desire cools and darkens and it’s a,
Foreign feeling,
Even after happening again and again.
There has to be dark clouds.
There has to be a storm because it’s a good thing,
But my walls cannot endure so much thunder.
The absence of hope, like the abundance of despair.
Forcing yourself to shake because you just can,
And no one is there to chastise it.
There is something adjacent to love,
But it might as well be a thousand miles away,
For all the good the distance does.
A moonless sky,
By the time you notice it,
The stars have already brought it home.

after death
is there anything
but the soft patter
of the kitten's paws
against kitchen tiles
searching for its owner

is there anything
but the children
who run across the playground laughing
unknowing of what awaits them
what overturned tables
what fogged car mirrors

is there anything
but the memories
falling like gentle snow
across graveyards and families
who will be there someday
forgotten as well

is there anything
but silence in the unloved
early hours of the morning
as the stars blink
out one by one
finally above the weather

these sheets so incredibly warm
wicked, yes, i think the window is shattered
like everything else in my writing, my
pain
it is shattered
covered, tossed aside
i feel better alone
there is nothing of value in the present
i am the 5 am paranoia kicking in,
the work lying there on my desk
as time ticks past its due date
each line in the wood floor
watered by tears
there is
nothing of value
anywhere