I'm too old to have dreams.
I fall asleep so easily now,
no  interruptions
no thoughts
no more.

I can't write poetry
   in the sun . . .

Give me darkest nights
     and undercover I will run

Let no light penetrate my eye
    lest it be by stars and comments going by


From hiding all my words
        come out

They hate the sun I know
       now without a doubt

They like to bask in glow
        of moon

Conversing amongst the
           punctuations . . .

is it now or when or way
             too soon

They start to shuffle before
           'say daylight

Anxious with intent ,
   hurried on now by their
        plight

First rays they soon all
        disappear
           . . . . . .

Well I will be waiting
          out the day
It's not like waiting
         for years and years

Soon the sun will be getting
                   tired

And deep inside I will be gettiing . . .
       
             so inspired

How do I go
When my absence melts you
How do I turn away
When I am immersed in you

What else can I see
If you are all my vision
What can draw my mind
If you are each thought

Are you truly alone
While you are surrounded by fears
Are you left without voice
While you scream in silence

Is there a limit to my rekindlings
As I extinguish with each last look
Is it possible to breathe
As lungs fill with endless calls to you

At what point could there be too much us
Though there is never enough
At what point is pain exhausted
Though the void of apart is limitless

Where is the end of empty
Can it be found when we are cleft
Where do we cease to touch
Can we be disjoined at any point

Why do we bleed with stilled hearts
Must away be bottomless
Will actuality ever come right
Do we survive, or die trying

i wish
that love
still
ignited a raging fire
inside my chest
and flowed sparks through
my veins
and masked my
brain
with smoke
so the loneliness
wouldn't feel
as
cold