What a cold night to cry on
And I do not even love you

I do not even feel the presence
Of myself in this sorrow

What absence forms me
Jolting me out of sleep

Why do I leave the bed to wander?
Where do I long to be?

There is no remedy for tear
And you cannot soothe me

Here, simply: grief gallops
On horses of terror

It sounds its divine horn
Through the white halls of me
And there is nothing to give
But myself to the breaking

Strange
What dream
A man tries to catch
In broad day
As the world busily
Passes by him.

A fleeting glimpse I had of him
seated on a small slab napping.

Was the night harsh on him
as he lay on the floor
stinking with his toils
with no roof overhead
looking at an absurd firmament
hazily spangled with stars.

Was he weighing his life in starlight
counting rusted coins of losses
breathing heavily through the void
as darkness weighed him down.

Was he waiting for a sleep
that would ripen his dreams deep
reaching him to the farthest galaxy
where every objects were made
only for him

objects of riches and success
and then deeper beyond..
love, peace and happiness.

Maybe the night returned him no dream
and trying to make up
he sought the refuge of day.

Was I the man in the glimpse
I thought
with nothing but dreams
as I rode away into the day
to embrace what is destined!

there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us

i,

too,

rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his

and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his

but he stood up

and left

and maybe he knew,

it was for the better.

You can rest now,
Sooner than you think.
For your legs are tired
Mind is mired
By past events.

It has not all gone your way
Nor has it gone too far astray

You may walk that corridor
Past haunted portraits
Hung skewed upon the wall.
Each one faded,
Canvas scratched
By the history of memories attached.

It took years to build these walls
From the remnant of a childhoods fall
The first and last line of defence
To halt invasions and consequence.

You can rest now,
Sooner than you thought
You fought the battle,
You lost the war.

being a woman in the 21st century is great

a past full of women who fought for us
for us to vote
for us to work
for us to feel safe
for us to be equal to our male counterparts

now i can buy pepper spray at my college bookstore

now i can learn to hate *** because i began to be sexualized at 11 years old

now i can walk down my street and only hope to blend in to all those around me so i don’t get yelled at by strange men

now i can have a one night stand and pray no mistakes happen and punch my lower stomach and pump my body with toxins as much as possible just in case

this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg
this isn’t even every struggle a woman must make

but can’t you agree that

being a woman in the 21st century is great?