that girl you made cry
yeah, she's insecure
all because of you
and your friends

you laugh and feel cool
for making her cry
not a care in the world
when one day she suddenly 'dies'

you feel like
it isnt your fault.
"maybe its another reason" you say
until you see on the news
"girl commits suicide for being bullied"

you suddenly feel something you've never felt before
something called guilt
you cry and worry that
everything's your fault

many days pass and
you still feel ashamed,
well guess what,
you're the one to blame.

Time, my love, for I have to go
To vanish like a shadow tonight
Returning, I do not know when
For a dark poet soul fades away

If you should dream of me
I will come, walk through your dreams
Embracing you with sweet memories
But for now, this is only a brief goodbye

Fond submission remains in your eyes
Alas, my dear, I wish I could stay
But do not allow your heart to break
I belong to the night of a thousand words

I carry with me the touch of your body
The knowledge of every part of your flesh
An ageless beauty forever in my mind
Remember me, until we meet again

O incomparable Giver of life, cut reason loose at last!

Let it wander grey-eyed from vanity to vanity.

Shatter open my skull, pour in it the wine of madness!

Let me be mad, as You; mad with You, with us.

Beyond the sanity of fools is a burning desert

Where Your sun is whirling in every atom:

Beloved, drag me there, let me roast in Perfection!

Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the
***** of my cheek. On the
occasion, you press
above me, glowing, spouting
readiness, mystery rapes
my reason

When you have withdrawn
your self and the magic, when
only the smell of your
love lingers between
my *******, then, only
then, can I greedily consume
your presence.

So the Poet knows that to
Stand up for it all,  
He'll have to stand down.
Stand back and
Look around,

Say to himself: Your big heart
Deserves better than
Your big head, brother.
You can both have
Whomever you
Want.

So if you want each other,
Keep wanting each other.
You're not
Stupid, you've got hands. It ain't
Rocket Romance.

I stand yelling on both of my own
Shoulders, trying
Not to confuse
Myself.

I love you.
I'll take that. And
Run with
It.

To do something else; a picnic
Basket with salad
And a bottle of kiwi wine
On a blanket
In the garden
Is as good a place to sit and
Not talk
As any

Sun setting behind pines and
Birches
The land owner's five year old girl
Has kittens
On her summer dress

We laugh as she plays
With our cat
Which seems to have grown
Affectionate of
Her

And somewhere on Earth
Love finds its way
To the surface of itself
And takes a long
Awaited
Breath.

You are always with me
Even though I have separated from you
Even when I feel alone and unloved.
You are always with me

You never forsake me even though
I  have forsaken you,
Your love is the gentle breeze
That ruffles leaves on trees.
It is the glue that holds mountains in place
And keeps Earth on its axis.

And even though I have forgotten
All my  highest aspirations.
Your love is in the warm darkness of caves,
And the light of dragonfly wings.

No matter where I hide and what  I do
You never forsake me.
Your voice is in the sound
Of every inbreath and outbreath I take.

The Earth my mother caresses my feet,
And holds my head pointed
Straight to you in the heavens.
The sun shines even behind clouds,
And the moon casts a heavenly light
Over Earth as I sleep.


Like the catterpillar I gratify only my earthly needs
And forget my  highest aspirations.
I even forget that within me
Lies the promise of the beautiful butterfly I am.
It is only when I begin to love the catterpillar within
Will I soar to my highest potential

I don't even have words,
For the ways that I don't feel,
I am not the waving of the fields.

I hold onto songs about the moon,
My tides do not swell with her,
I am more the darkness in this room,
Cold, unmoving, absolute.

I am not the motion of your hair,
As he runs his fingers through it,
I no longer even stare.

I Am not the climbing of tree,
I do not yearn upward,
Is there anything to see?
(or be?)

I am not the warmness of your breath,
Clinging tight to your fingers,
And the inside of your chest,

I am not the dreams you make,
As dragons fly by night,
And sparks flow in your wake.

I am not the whispers,
You feel close to your ears,
I am more like distant echoes,

Everyone hates
a book with a terrible ending.

That disappointment
that settles in on the last page.

My bed is that feeling of disappointment
every morning I wake up on January 1st.

365 pages;
Ending everything with a sorrowful bang.