i want to be the reason there is light inside your eyes again. the reason you worship the sunrise, instead of clinging red knuckled to the end of each dying day.

She was nature, beautiful
But deadly, her cheeks as
Scornful as a rose, the smile hid
The thorns underneath.

Her presence though unseen,
Could be felt, like the sun's warm
Breath on bare winter skin.

She led him somewhere secret
As the night lures the stars,
As clouds gorge on the
Fragile light of the moon.

Over the crumbled bodies
Of leaves, into the alien
Land of tranquility.

When he woke, hands burning,
There was nothing left to see.
Only a faint feeling glistening
In the air, a failing heart and
A tongue full of dreams.

and again, the gritty path,
for visiting the houses, ruined.
time fled and life stood still,
strangled in suspension points.

i come, to collect lonesomeness,
feed my senses upon bygones.

window sills to inner spaces.
motherhood.

there, the place of a fire,
the grime inks a flame in black,
silhouetted.

crock pots, iron pots,
cracked, bumped.
soup. boiling.smoking.
cendrillons wrinkling
by the fireplace
in yellowished orange blossom gowns.

a skeleton of a bed.

leaning roof.

a wall in blue.

the view from the back window.
the door to the backyard.

houses grow blind.
i come
to lend them my eyes.
willingly.

eventually they'll have me,
bind me, seed me,
a tree-creeper to sight
the swallows, tell them
we have a vacant eave
in a falling roof.

These words...
They traverse the fine line between earth and sky.
They dwell not, surface-deep in the dirt.
They be haloed not, as the chorus of heaven.

They're just murmurs that swim intangible.
Like reticulated wisps of smoke.
Incapable of materialising...
Or take definite forms on their own.

They only await to be carefully selected,
rearranged and harnessed into a jar...
Before being sealed infinite with a title.

Be quiet and still...
For you will hear them.
Milling and floating in the silence
that exists between your heartbeats.

Listen close...
For they are fragments of you
and the universe.
They're thoughts and feelings that come awake
as you slumber.

Awaiting to be selected...
Awaiting to be rearranged...
Awaiting to be harnessed...

By you,
the conduit with a pen.

you don't have to be pretty
or be beautiful physically
or be great at
anything you love....

as long as you're there
for me to see
and lean on
once every often

and by knowing that you
care and hold me close
to your heart
once every often
i know i can
live life
well
enough.

I promise,
That I will do my best
In all that I do.
Whether it is you,
My work or my sanity.
Starting from tomorrow,
I will not do anything that
Hurts me.
I will help only those I care
For and love only those
Who are deserving.
Starting with you,
My darling boy.

i no longer speak to the wind,
she doesn't listen,
and she blows whichever way she wants

my lungs are burning up for you
and you just stand there
admiring the fireworks.

I want back what I have lost.
To be whole once more,
To find the piece that fits.
I can't feel much;
But what I can,
Is just enough
To get up again.
The hope that tomorrow,
I'll find someone new,
To help me place the pieces;
To show me love again

I am a terrible liar,
no matter how thick
my masks are...

In this land
I feel out of place.

It's hard when
you're often misunderstood.
I just let it be
succumbing to my faults,
to my insecurities,
to my doubts & fears...

I breathe-in the toxic air
and breathe-it-out...
No matter how much
you cleanse the air
that comes,
when you're
stained
it leaves a scar
that's hard to heal.
Then everything comes
to a choice,
**** or be ******.

I have been good
so far...
Letting the river
flows,
never got to swim back
or even fight
the rushing currents.
Pretending to swim is
easy.

In the end,
life is  been
good,
despite happiness
is just a mask.