Two kinds of people exist
Those who are lost in their dreams
And those whose aspirations keep them alive
For another day and another day
At midnight
Some find solace
Some find ambition - an inner spark if you will
Both are running towards the same destination
While I've known people who would read and read
Through the thick of a warm lamp on their desk
Till their eyes couldn't pore over pages no more
There are some who wouldn't sleep anymore
Because they'd slept through daybreak
They'd fallen on dark times - sleep had lost its meaning
Yet these two kinds of people often
Are just the same
Like two sides of a scuffed out coin
That has been tossed one time too many
Coalescing with one another
Till you can't make out which is which
And who is who
In the memory of you

Irrational feelings
Even a rationalist
Can fall victim to
And spend their entire life
Trying to understand it
Rather than absorb it
Like a red sky on the first dusk
Of autumn

It is a part of you
That was left collecting dust
On the shelves of time

It was something you never did
it was something you always did

God rest my soul
Because you never did

I learned to drink
Because you never did
Never defined the moment
Because you always did

God rest my soul
Simply put
I knew you would
Because you never did

Oh you enjoyed the fall
You loved it all

God rest my soul
Because you never did

it is a long time since the sun shone in long and low

like that, says the bear.



does this mean it is spring now? it is such a pretty

room.



yellow.

A vessel becomes the

planchette of depths,

moved by the underbelly

of a storm.

Drawn all the way out,

to know how it's seen.

The bloodless spelling

of its own name.

Did you love me?
Or was it just my laughter at your jokes—
my habit of giggling, even at your half-shady pokes?

Did you love me?
Or did I just have the time?
Did you think, “Yeah, she’s not half bad. This could be just fine.”

Did you love me?
Or were you just scared—
tired of doing life alone, craving a body that cared?

Was it real for you? Or just another game?
Was I a plot point in your story
because the chapters had gotten tame?

These thoughts still haunt me—
and the truth I’ll never know.
Mostly because I’d never ask—
and I wouldn't survive you saying “no.”