Isn’t physically quick or agile.

Disappears in libraries.

Has been known to dissolve into the physical pages of books.

Is good at tucking herself into the stacks and retreating to reading nooks.

Blends in at coffee shops where her voice can be drowned out by the grinding and the steaming.

Can become indistinguishable in the dark of theatres, in the quiet shuffle of art galleries, the finger-snapping of poetry readings, the hum and jostle of the Tube.

Is indistinct. Adept at hiding in plain sight.

what's there to write about
a floor scrubber?

in the sun on my shoulder
its light plastic touch
polythene wrapper
gaily fluttering in the wind
breathing its last light of freedom
before consigned to lifelong prison
standing damp dreaming to dry
but for that fleeting time
it rests on my shoulder
comforted on flesh and bone
on the brief journey
from the shop to a nook
enjoying the glances of passerby
curious my carrying it
a hint of boast in my gait
flaunting as if a magic wand
the floor scrubber transient yet eternal
a glorious poem material
a poem name
and a man's declaration

there's no shame
doing your work
your way.

Love Sonnet
This afternoon at the local grocer I had bought a bottle of beer
and a tin of tuna fish and I meet the daughter of the woman
I had been in love with, I had never seen her before and said
halloo like she knew me and she was as lovely as her mother
was. Her mother came and I said something flattering, they both
smiled knowingly, you can't fool a woman about love. I'm sure
her mother had told her daughter of my trips to the post office
where she worked t the time. And they have been laughing, not of
derision, but by my inability to express my love openly.

I'm telling this because when I came from hospital in December
after collapsing and had been given a pacemaker and the onset of
the shingles I was in despair both physically and mentally and
I said if I had died I would have no knowledge about this tristesse
My wife cried and I promised not to speak thus again and I would
not met the daughter of the woman I loved

High Functioning
Breathing in
I want to fall in

Missing the strength
Exhaling
I want to get lost
lost in your mind gaze

A solid stare into my thoughts
feeling the flame as you
burn me alive
on the inside.

My brother brushes past me in the kitchen.
I find myself offended, not for his rudeness nor the brash way he attempts to apologize.
But because on my own flesh and blood I smell him.
It has been years but the odor of his cologne still sends me spiraling.

Memory is a haunting thing.

How am I supposed to move on when every wide eyed, bro-tank wearing beef cake smells like my worst nightmare,
It feels like I am just trying to escape,
but was forced into Stockholm's syndrome via perfumed air and this sense of helplessness that I cannot bear.

This is what it feels like to drown all over again,
but this time I am perpetually a scared 14 year old girl, and it is arms surrounding me not lake water.
I could find irony in using that brand of cologne to light myself on fire,
or to inhale the aerosol into my already full lungs for a short high
Either way it would be the same as killing myself all over again.

Half of me is still on that mattress somewhere,
I don't know how to get her back, or why I want her so bad.
But, how can I make this little girl inside stop crying if I'm not there to comfort her?
How could I ever be there to comfort her?

I am so broken and bruised,
I still flinch when hit in spaces once blackened by hands I thought I knew.

blue moon, once in
your light, I will be
shed of the heat of this day
free to stalk my prey
tear flesh from bone
feel gravity's gift
slide it down my gullet
sate me for another night
until one more slower beast
crosses my path
in lesser light

When I see you,
I see the sun,
Blindingly illuminated,
With blazing character,
And generous happiness.
Generated from your smiling face.

I see the light
Of millions of more suns,
In the sparkle in your eyes.
You have a Galaxy
For each emotion,
In which I can get lost in.

Wonder, and lust, and
Excitement, and humor.
It's pure and in all this,
I know it's true,
I hold your interest.

In You, I see the Universe,
Filled with Light and whatever is Divinity.
I am like Creation,
Gazing towards everything in front of me.

And you see back to Me,
A chocolate, twinkling sea.
Filled with the same Light and Divine entity
We try to know in this Reality.

The Universe & Creation.
One in the same.
A strange game.
In which we have a place,
However it be arranged.

dead flowers and they smell like you