I wish
I was
someone
better,
honest,
courageous.
who'd never
lie,
cheat,
hurt you.
and always
listen,
be there,
protect you.
instead of
failing you,
losing you,
letting you go.
I wish
I was
someone
else.

I watch her dance in the pale moonlight,
Her wild heart that never stays.
Yet for her, the world stands still,
Her sigh breaks men like me.

In every glance, in every sigh,
She holds the world beneath her eyes.
A gentle hand, a steady will,
And when she smiles, the stars ignite.

For love is her, and she is love,
And in her eyes, I see it clear
All that I want, and all that’s dear.

Where do I pour this love?

It haunts me when I lay in bed,
begging to be whispered and held;
Sweet nothings? No— everythings instead

“Give me to him,
as he wants it,
needs it,
craves
it”

Who? Where? I reply,
before turning to my side.
I pour inward, and keep it aside.

Years go by,
                     drop by drop.
This will do, I decide.
                              drop by drop.
I’m no longer dried.
                                  drop by drop.
Overflowing; that’s no surprise.
                                           drop by drop.

Where else do I pour this love?

You.
You are parting to the heavens,
Leaving thoughts embedded
Into my mind.

How unkind,
That death must welcome you,
To hold you before I do.

This cannot be true.

How alive I felt.
Your smile,
contagious,
And how outrageous
That you're being taken.

As you now awaken in a land of clouds.

But now,
My heart is aching,
Thoughts are racing,
I miss you now.

I miss us two.

My lips,
Quivering
At a thought only one can dread.

'You are dead'.

As I lay
Sitting in pain,
Grieving,
By your bed.

Nothing hurts when I'm alone,
As I drink the sweet poison
That empties my mind.

How unkind,
This substance can feel
So fresh and fine,
Without a thought to mind.
As I run for fun,
Through streets of unknown,
Not knowing who the ones are
Vibrating my phone,
As they text and call me
To come back home.

A smile creeps on my face,
As i'm restless and dazed,
In a hypnotic haze,
For one can only suffer
The very next day.

But alas,
The day has come,
And I for one
Awoken by a
Frosted memory,
Of one late night,
Turned into a horror sight.

Was I there?

As I meekly glare
At the ones who care,
Standing before me,
Beginning to stare.

I hear silence in the air.

Not one feeling I remember,
Not one feeling I forget.
I wake up in a cold sweat
Of utter guilt and regret.

Only
thats the common word now
only

only if
only then
only maybe

only

Could everything finally fall into place?
Could this only cliff
that I have been struggling to get to
finally be within grasp
and something I can stand on?

just only for a moment?

Running from my self
Circling around in Hell
Chased by “demons”
Perhaps my imagination conjured up
Some grim reapers and a flowery, thorn-filled trellis
That was a gateway into another world
I was running towards you in the darkness
No shoes in the snow, I was so cold and numb
Chasing a light that I could barely see
Terrified by what I was hearing
I was alone on a Michigan street
Some thought I was a *******
Waiting to be picked up
A victim of a bad time
But I just wanted to go home
I got into some guy’s car
Luckily a good-hearted soul
A God-send he let me in
Warmed my feet and let me go
Home

Wind
has banked,
-grown little teeth-,
portentous new alignments
meet , exaggerated,
weather veined,
behind impatient
branches

Flames divine
entrancing shivers
breath, a ghost
an omen passed,
fragments carried,
Icy river
Holly-crowned,

She dances

The autumn grieves in muted colours
of life in warmth, stuck in twilight's hold.
Wolves stay away from the edges of the city
and howl in the cold.
It was spring the last time I felt real,
and now it has been half a year moving in phases, through to tomorrow.
I love the autumn, the fall of summer's empire,
the way I can be cold without trying, only warm if I want to.
All the hype about mittens and toques and sweaters gives overrated expectations,
because a short while ago autumn was the death of life, and winter its mourning
because nothing grows.
Is life seasonal? No, its always,
and I will always love you,
love the little ways you live.
The hermit in me is tired and malnourished and I am grieving for memories that feel too good.
Because life is swell.