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Caelus Oct 2013
to be held by you
on a night where the rain can
be heard on the roof

whilst cradled in the
soft sounds of your breathing, oh
that would be the bomb

...the bomb

how gentle it is
in its detonation, how
soft your shards breeze past

my skin
Caelus Oct 2013
i found my best friend at the lake
down in the swamp, wading through
knee deep mire, for the sake of sustenance

i watched him for a time, as he plucked
frogs and small fish from their homes
with the trained eye of a seamstress

eventually, once i had caught his eye
he let out a cry and left me
sitting in my small lonesome boat

that was the only time i ever saw him,
but as he left me he whispered to me all of his love
his wisdom, his knowledge, through the tips of his outstretched limbs

and i never forgot him
Caelus Oct 2013
i used to patch
the holes in your pants
that you tore while climbing rocks

i always used to think that
plaid jackets and plain jeans
suited you best

now your temper is short as well as your hair
and your fire eyes look off in to the sky
rather than crawling up my arm in to mine
Caelus Oct 2013
tired eyes
weary sighs
empty checklists and picket lines
hands that ache
lips that quake
statements and proposals that i cannot make
calculations, calculators
stairwells and elevators
cold cement
old lament
spring leaves
endless seams
single mothers coddling crying infants
millions stare at the monitors, entranced
worn out books and worn out lies,
these are my final goodbyes
Caelus Oct 2013
--you pushed me over.
your hands collided with  
my shoulders, firm,
and I fell in to the pond.
all around me I felt but muck

murk and mud
my hands searched for solidity,
and only found solitude
coiled inside the russet.
frantic I searched for something to hold
maybe, your hand,

but nothing came to me.
water burnt my throat as it
forced its way through my nose.
as If I’d shattered the sun,
all around me,

colors and flashes of light captured my vision
and stars, in the hundreds, thousands,
millions yet,
overtook my eyes.

they were quick to move to my fingers.
my hands erupted in a light that I could not comprehend
as my skin shattered like glass

as horrible as it sounds,
it felt like lying in a downy featherbed.

a mattress under ten feet of the worlds’ finest pillows.
Caelus Oct 2013
if i were to
write an autobiography
it would be in the form of a poem
because life cant be represented by
endless sprawling fonts
with pristine ivory pages
maybe if you took that book
and set it on fire
threw the remains in a river
and fished it out to find that
snails had taken shelter within
it could closer represent
because sometimes things get hot
just to be cooled by tears
and people find their ways to stab you
even though you see it
from sixty three miles away
so you take the remaining words
and assemble them
in whatever fashion you choose
because giving up leaves a story unfinished
and though not meaningless its close
Caelus Oct 2013
the days when
the sweet violets charmed the money out of men's pockets
just to hide away
the days when roses were proud and used their thorns wisely
snakes bathed in the sun where they were warm and welcome
spiders had simple lives of luxury with their homemade hammocks strung out
snow didnt alarm the masses
because it just meant sharing their homes with those who had
nothing besides the open air
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