Picking nasty notes
Not the yellow ones
That stare back at you right
Before you open the fridge-door
But, blue ones that wave to my ear
Under the moon that is
Breaking through the picture window
Notes in the air, notes expressing despair
The moon shines for no one
It is late, no traffic
The radiator hisses and ticks and pops
Trying hard to vocalize between plucked notes
Mighty vibrations vibrating
Blues dark blue, blues light blue
Blues hurting, angry, breaking free
Into a turquoise green-blue sea
Back to the black of night
With the moonlight and a salty tear on ones cheek

till I looked behind me
that the sun is blinding
a fly lit up my path
the streams all had a laugh

I didn’t know
till I stopped
the sunflower’s head
is cropped
the sky is grey as Bristol
his words are liquid crystal

I didn't know
till I listened
the ground is christened
with every step he takes
made this chest concave

I didn’t know
till I turned the corner
I’m a foreigner

behind the smiles a vast chasm opens
unfillable, unfathomed, unknowable.

It's the continual
opening of the
eyes that disappoints,
not that sleep brings peace,
but it's the momentary
reprieve from life's
clenched fist, and
it's ruthless apathy.

Life is a toss of
the coin,
a roll of the dice.
Often, it's snake eyes.
As a kid, I always
thought that everything
would be alright.
Now I see the
randomness of
it all.

I'm always trying to
get back to Eden.
Sometimes, the
dreamer in me
forgets the futility.
The banishment is
forever.