The calendar shed its last leaf of chances,
Three hundred and sixty six windows shut;
The moon has undergone a dozen phases,
But no high or low tide can get you past.
Your lackadaisical methods and indecision,
Failed to find that door to a good year;
And you're suffocating in your desperation,
Like a nightmare trapped in its own fear.
Eleven disappointed months fall in line,
Even December has already accepted its fate;
Cascading like lifeless dominoes you'll find,
Scattered in the wastes of your world inanimate.
Self-abhorring like a snake biting its own tail,
Aimlessly mindfully going around in circles;
Reading rejection letters and spam emails,
Looking for false hope in a perpetual cycle.
Making a promise you know you can't keep,
Like the past new years that will have come and gone;
Where you always try to count all your sheep,
And your wolves will make sure to give you none.

The crashing of the waves
Reminds me of my head
Hitting the wall
After I've told myself
A million times
'I can't love you I can't love you'
And the wind
Slapping my face
Reminds me of how I felt
When I watched you walk away
For the last time
And it's your voice
Echoing along the cliff's edge
'Jump jump'.

If you have wings
why bother with walking?

whether they be ivory and scaled
or black and feathered,
spread your wings and fly--

for those who know flight,
a life on the ground is meaningless.

I trust,
deeply and sincerely,
that you're not meant for the red clay-mud
and ever sharpening blades of grass,
and dew drops and ladybugs,
but rather the burning hydrogen lights
and the shimmering moons
of the starscape.

Summer had long since betrayed the sand
When alone we both walked hand in hand
With others whose love we tried to hold
On the hail swept beach of bitter cold

Your memory seemed within my reach
As the angry waves punched the beach
Cross ebb tide that made it depart
I scanned the horizon for your heart

Finding instead that still your grace
Lived in this bleak, lonely place
When long days stood in long nights stead
Here you were - Victoria Silvstedt

On the sunny sands of Saint-Tropez
Too much for feeble words to say
Then after we had tread a mile
My 'other' gave an uncertain smile

As if somehow she already knew
That here those nights I came for you
But as she urged us both to go
You appeared once more - spindrift rainbow.

You're my star in the middle of a very dark and dreary sky.