You
Cannot
Take
Away
The
Rights
Of
Those
Who
Have
Nothing
Left

I wanted to change the world so it suited my subtleties,
You just wanted to change so you could fit better into society.

You went quietly whilst I went kicking and screaming.
I stayed awake for days whilst you lay next to me sleeping.

Since then,

we only speak in dreams,
and the cooler side of the cushion,
is the opposite team,
& so no it seems,

I’ve been lost since you left me,

for dead.

My best friend,
a nest egg
of opportunities.
I was a student of you
&
your beautiful truth,
but
we,
cr ac ke d,

under the pressure;

I still haven’t learn’t my lesson,
but
i’ll treasure you forever,
until we meet again,

Even though now,
you're a shell of your former self.

Nothing in the middle to divide us,
fading health,
too stubborn,
to ask for help.

I never told you this,
But I love you like no one else,
I love you.

Your eyes are filled with brightness,
Sharpness,
Intelligence,
Warmth.

Your smile lights up my day,
Your words soothe my brain,
Your laugh **** amazing.

Even when you are sad,
When you cry,
You are amazing.
Because your pain is pure,
No matter how small the problem is.

I just wish I get to see you again.
Then I will never let you go.

there is something wistful
about the way the cars move along
and the way I am watching them
with such diligence
from my aloof window
even up here in my leather seat
i feel a connection to their humanity
the urgency in which they scamper
through the streets and the
sunlight
so comforting in its afternoon glow
that it makes me melancholy
because as it has reached its peak
and will soon be gone.

isn't it funny the way we assume?
that this honey veil will be draped once again?
anticipating the glint of another windshield
as if it is written down in Time's script?

there is something sad
about the way we presume connection
with one another and with nature
the way we reflect ourselves
our existence
onto the tiny people laughing in the parking lot
and the trees that speak no tongue at all
only the language of perpetual existence
that we try desperately to decipher
with our limiting words

The night before I killed myself I tried to sleep but couldn't. The mantle clock sounded second ticks long-handed. Loud, long ticks.

I climbed up on the roof. Sat on shingles layered in leaves I'd promised but never got around to blowing off. The neighbor's cat stared at me across the way. A look as empty and weightless as I felt. She meowed one plangent note before she left me there.

Dark mistletoe hung unused from lintels long ago. You and I we stood there not sure of what to do.

The night before I killed myself I built a fire. Fed it the notes you wrote.
Declerations of love turned to ash without protest. Your pleas were next, their ashes floating up in black and white.
Columns of supplication falling cold and grey.
You never want to see me again; I saved that one for last, just as you did.

The night before I killed myself I searched my contacts. Only a few remained and still it felt crowded, filled with intimate strangers who'd stopped calling long ago. I tried to count the people who might care, but I came up empty handed.

The night before I killed myself the moonlight spilled on lawns manicured through quiet dedication only suburbs can posess. I enjoyed it once. Now the silent solitude I sought ran screaming, chased by racing thoughts and guilt I could no longer place.

That night I tried to tell myself to live, while the last lights flickered in my eyes. Ash is what's left when the fire dies.

sometimes i regret almost,
most things,
most thoughts
and,
most actions,

but,
my feelings,
are what I regret,
more than anything,
else in the world,

and,
sorry I can't,
fix the damage,
I've done,

to you,
others,
and,
to myself.

In the morning when the moon hides,
That's where I'll be.

The same place,
The same face.

Lost in thought, lost in space, floating around you, just in case;
look up you might see

I'll be amongst the atmosphere biding my time,
Waiting in time to shine off your reflection.

I'll be there at the reception of the clouds,
Waiting for the storm to pass.
You'll be proud now when you see who I am crescenly.

Presently I'm a lunatic, the tides not been on my side recently.
I frequently find myself hiding amongst the abyss, prophetically deep in thought,
waiting for the storm to pass and reveal myself like a lunar eclipse.

Those loose lips cause a nuisance.
Sink ships.

But why do you care about those haters with so many holes and so many craters.

That's not like you, that's not the moon I know.

I'll see you later this evening,
like most nights,
or I might of the storm passes in time.