As the wind whispers sweet nothings in my ear

I pause to listen, to hear 

the name of your voice drifting over the wind 
though swallows tails whose feathers have thinned



As the winter bites at the ice cold chill

I promise forever I will 

climb the tall mountain and stand by your side

sing songs of friendship and time we’ll abide

Don’t listen to darkness my lovely, my dear

the dark causes nothing but fear

your heart it is strong in my hands like a bird

the first melody that it ever has heard

I linger beside you my heart touching yours

looking out over the mist covered moors

with your hand in mine the world we’ll rule

ill save you from darkness, that wide grinning ghoul

And in moments of sorrow, and moments of pain

I’ll catch your stray teardrops, and brush away rain 

that falls from the stars on your porcelain face

I’ll be your back bone, your cast and your brace

I’ll pick up the pieces when pieces are done

and put them back to where they’ve begun

your smile is a universe, your laugh is the sun

the bird of your heart is second to none

My love stay here with me, my love do not weep

I’ll see you in morning, I’ll see you in sleep

My love it is worth it, this mountain to climb 

My love you are worth every cent, every dime

When the going gets tough love, just look to the stars 

though we may be apart love, the universe’s ours

to rule as we wish, to command as we will

so fight this long battle, keep climbing uphill 


You’ll get to the top love, and you’ll look around

and wonder how such beauty can ever be found

for after the battle, and after the war 

peace will be found, on a not so far shore

I may not be great at writing but

I am of the opinion that,

a poet upon closer inspection

is quite similar to a hat,

both are worn ragged and weary,

both drip water when they're teary,

both have a similar disposition,

and don't need much nutrition,

they're hung right out to dry,

either by a wife or by a guy,

are locked for hours in a room,

never overuse a broom ,

worn to cover balding spots,

or gaping holes in meager plots,

the brim on one doth shield another,

and once it's made it's got a brother,

and though one types and the other sits,

holding over gaping pits,

and though one smiles and the other cries,

and though one falls and the other flies,

and though one speaks and the other is mute,

all in all they're not so brute,  

so though a poet is not a hat,

and though a hat is not a poet,

it would escape their reason (both)

if either of them refused to show it

It is quiet here
in this creaking house
no whispers in the night of dead
the hallways of my sculpted heart
are splintered broken close ahead
the floorboards shake
as my demons make
their triumph known to man
and in my walls of
flesh and bone
cemented with the shattered wish
of those once loved
i am alone

I have a theory
Woven together with the last remnants of hope that I cling to in order to save myself from drowning
Tied tightly by the bonds I my past to my present
Stitched closed by metal staples and blue plastic
So read between the lines
Between the grand canyons of my self destruction
Behind the cliff faces of the masks I wear
Underneath the torrents of my youth
The theory itself is simple
the execution is anything but
It burns through my veins like wildfire
Scorching all life in its path
And like a tsunami wipes any
trace of my existence from the cragged face of this planet
This planet that has squandered my hope
and preyed upon my raw insecurities like a parasite
When in reality I am the parasite
feeding off of the land I praise
******* the nutrients from life as it drains the life from me like a waterfall
I drown in its depths
In its fury
In its suicidal twisted rage that feels nothing
cares nothing for those it swallows whole
And like the summer months
before my time
I am gone

Tentacles soft of sunlight
Die slowly o'er raven hill
Silent ghostly whispers of mem'ries long since past and till
Creep quiet, hushed, and broken
Dragging limbs of silver and gold
Through bloodied strands of spider's web
Spun of forgotten dreams of old
Where kings and giants fought till death
And misty dragons roar
There my dear you shall find me
nye amongst the crashing sea but
Amidst the wheat grass long
Listening in total silence
While the crickets song their song

Soft wind whistles through slight wilting trees
melting buildings of stones and stairways of leaves
and from a high thistle throne wear I a harsh golden crown
I tilt my pale head and look to the ground

Seventeen stories up and my subjects below
hear the symphony play stuck in staccato
each short stilted note striking down to my bones
the concrete inviting ethereal groans

It's never the falling that kills you, my dear,
it's always the landing, drawing so near
my conscious abandoned, my thoughts torn apart
do I leap from these heights to death do outsmart?

My balcony thoughts all awhirl in my head
come to the conclusion I'm better off dead
a king with no kingdom a queen with no quail
I fly seventeen stories from my dark fairytale

And it's moments like these
where you stop moving and the world
spins
And your body feels so heavy
like rocks, like mountains,
like the whole world is pushing down
like you're drowning
in gravity
like none of the rules of physics apply
And it's like quicksand
there's no bottom to the pit
you've dug
and no ladder, no stairway, no handholds
you're falling
And you feel like you can barely breathe
barely blink
barely live
Depression isn't something cool
not a fad
or a trend
it's a sentence
a death sentence
and I don't know whether or not I can lift it
because somedays,
like today,
it's just too heavy

I am the destroyer of worlds
specifically of my own,
with no regard to the landscape
I consume,
My words brazen in their wild hunt,
Uncaring for the lives of those they swallow whole.
I raze fields, create canyons
Without a second glance,
Without care or thought or reason
I shall burn the hollowed
recesses of my heart
Until there remains naught but
Ash and cinder.
Destruction is my name,
Desolation? My title.
I am the harbinger of death,
Specifically my own,
Mercy knows no hiding hovel in the caverns
of my skin,
pity lives not in my eyes,
flooded by rage
devoid of hopeful commiserations,
I am inhumane,
I am the plague
So you must run to escape me,
Oh but run you cannot
For the roots of my depression stretch
Far beyond my physical body,
Wind around our planet,
Touch soul after soul after soul,
I shall set fire to my very source of humanity,
The weakness in me which
Allows my doors to swing open,
My drawbridge to lower faithfully,
Covering the moat I had built myself,
at the first knocking promise
Of someone else caring about me in a way I
have never learned to for myself.
Yet once I glean that first bit of affection
My poison twists through any veins of love
And I seem without fail,
To corrupt the small sparks of good
That dare to show their face.
So.....
Destruction is my name,
Desolation? My title.
I am the destroyer of worlds,
Specifically
My own

Today I took a shower
I stood under the water for probably way too long
I turned the water up way too hot
But today I took a shower today
And that’s something
That means im still alive right?
Dead people can’t take showers,
At least I don’t think they can,
Ghosts probably can’t either so
If I took a shower that means im still alive.
It’s funny  though,
I didn’t want to.
Take a shower I mean, 1
Because Im afraid of washing off the touch
Of your hands on my skin
Because what if I never feel that again
And If I had known that night would have been the
Last time for a while,
Until this “break” ends and you get things figured out,
Then I wouldn’t have been drunk
Because then I would have gotten to feel your arms around me for a while longer
Before I fell asleep
And I forgot before but I remember now,
I told you that I really liked you
And that that wasn’t just “drunk me” saying that.
And I forgot before but I remember now,
You didn’t say “I like you too”
You didn’t actually say anything.
And I don’t blame you.
I don’t hate you, hell I actually love you
And I think that’s why this hurts
Because I know you need time and space
And the ability to figure out who you are
And the ability to find who you are without
The added weight of a relationship
And I know you’ve told me that its nothing I did
“its not you its me” and maybe I love you so maybe
THAT’S why this hurts so bad
Because I can’t just “take a break” from loving you.
I don’t know what our future holds,
You held my hand as we talked about this
And I cried on you, about you, which is probably a stupid thing to do
But I told you I wouldn’t give up,
I said I’d wait as long as you needed me to,
Which is true. But it hurts, but I feel like im losing everything,
Who am i? I don’t know.
You have a birth mark on your hand that I never noticed,
And I miss you. But you’re right here. But I miss you.
And you know that, and you said you’ll miss me too.
And I cried on you, about you, which was probably a stupid thing to do,
But your fingers in my hair still felt the same and then you said
“your hair feels different” and I cried again
the obvious answer is because I dyed it, but
all I wanted to say was “yeah, everything does”
And I don’t know how to do this alone….
All of this running through my mind
Like the water running over my skin
That perhaps made it easier to cry….
But… I took a shower today
And that’s something.
Right?

Please tell me why I only
Seem to be able to write poetry
When I'm drunk or half asleep
Maybe it's because I loose my inhibitions
And no longer care what people think?
But that shouldn't matter anyway.
And honestly?
I DON'T care.
I'm good enough on my own
By my own
I'm worth enough
For myself to be myself
If that makes any sense.
I don't need anyone to
Tell me that I'm good enough
I know I am.
It's not my fault that some don't see it.
Come on,
Spread a little bit of self love am
I right?
I know when I say my name people
Don't blink so
Why should it be any different when I tell you
My pronouns.
I'm not an animal in a cage
In a zoo,
I'm **** good enough as me
And I don't REALLY need your approval
Honestly you're lucky you even got my
Name
Because most times I forget to introduce myself so
Why should the rest of me shock you anymore
Than my name does?

The real fairy tale life

Christmas eve, cuddled up with blankets and homemade hot chocolate (it's chocolatier and creamier than normal hot chocolate) and marshmallows, with a stupid old chick-flick that you've watched every year for the last 10 years, because it's become your tradition, and then putting the kids to bed early and hiding their presents and getting everything ready for them, because even though you'll be tired all day it's worth it to see them smile.

Going to the grandparents and the in-laws on boxing day because Christmas day is your day with the family, and having fun, playing board games because you can't beat the classics, sitting down for a dinner and laughing at ****** ******* jokes.

And then when the kids fall asleep, loading them into the car and going home, ready to go back to work the next day, because you work a full time job just to support your family to make sure they're never missing anything. Only to get ready for new years eve and partying the night away with your friends before escaping to kiss at midnight...

That's the real fairy tale life, not the marrying royalty and becoming a princess but marrying the one you love and starting a family, because not everything has to be perfect, just as long as you're together