in an ice-age we all searched for warmth.
cold nipping at our chest to reach what is underneath we trooped on-to warmer lands,
to find the cure to what seemed to harm us the most.

and in loneliness i searched for companionship.
sadness crept up my shoulders and shoveled under the layers of skin of my wrist to find the pulse,
but i kept searching blindly for someone i could call dear to me.

yet even when warmth is found on a tropical island near the sea, sun beating down on us hard
do we not confine ourselves to buildings filled with cold
so as to relive the troop, relive the search
to desperately find our own little struggle in aircon bills
and find faux hope in the blankets they sell 20% off?

and yet even when a friend is found
do i not still convince myself they are lying to me
and allow sadness to enter once more,
finding faults quicker than endearing traits;
so as to pity myself, boo-hoo, your so called love has betrayed you
and now you must search again for another

i want to be excited about the fireworks this year
but in all honesty the only lights i'd like to be seeing
are the lights in your eyes i used to see when you were still alive

maybe im thinking too much, maybe im thinking too much
but i've been missing your touch, why aren't you keeping in touch

eating cereal as a midnight snack probably can make a nice metaphor,
like eating breakfast for dinner or something
but when you're eating cereal at midnight, thinking of this, the thing is
it's midnight and you're too tired to make any coherent thoughts or remember any ghosts of such in the morning
so it stays a private intrapersonal poem,
the kind you always regret not writing down because it's easy to forget, but also
the kind that gets spoiled by being written down and therefore not forgotten

excuse me, sir
could you take a moment between the puffs of smoke rising from your cigarette
to be yourself again?

your eyes widened so much at the mention of her.
i learned in class one time that when a cats eyes dilate,
the ocean fills with more water
and when your eyes swelled at the thought of her,
mine flooded

man and his science, exploring the vast unknown
wearing his space suit, platinum white, fishbowl over his head

Jesus and all the deities in those old paintings
clothed in tunics, holy white, gold ******* their heads