i never ran out of words.
i'd see the night sky and i could describe it in a hundred ways --
i could say it was the ocean reflecting the twinkling lights above;
or maybe a moonlit path now visible through the waves.

i'd feel the wind brushing my cheek
and write about how it tousled my hair into messy tendrils--
how it plays with the leaves one moment
and the next leaves them astray under warmly-lit streetlamps.

oh i could write for endless hours
about disasters, impossibilities, probabilities
and i never ran out of words.

there are twenty-six letters in the alphabet and they never failed me.

but then i saw you.

ever since you left
i've replaced water with *****
it's dripping through my fingers
and is falling to the floor
it's coursing through my veins
still i drink a bit more

the flowers in my stomach
died the same day
i forgot you can't water them
with alcohol, anyway

so here i am still trying to escape
this is it, this is goodbye
i hope this time i forget your name.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall
Who is the fairest of them all

Not you, you're fat
You look horrid in that hat
I hate it when you dress like that
You might as well have been beaten with a bat
Too small
Too tall
Too short
Too slim
There will never be an way to win

Mirror Mirror one the wall
Are you really a reflection of what I need?

*No, I am just an image of what society wants you to be

175

I have never seen “Volcanoes”—
But, when Travellers tell
How those old—phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still—

Bear within—appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men—

If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place—

If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome—
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?

If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy “Pompeii”!
To the Hills return!