black skies stretch
in darkness, the clouds
dissolve into rain,
the night is lacquered
with varnish like
a wooden floor,
shiny and surreal -

it breathes of night
bird and the magnolia
light of the moon, quivers
and then is still, wraps us
in the mirrored waters of the stars.

the moon elevates
the night from darkness to
hypnotic light, bathes
the world in silver, flows
with our tears and our
softly spoken words,

transcends like lazarus
to a sky witnessed
through centuries,
loved and worn like
our favourite old clothes.

We live a world of make-believe
Everyone speaks in lies
Multiple faces worn
Conversations disguise

Snide statements made with polite words
Insinuated interactions
Everybody has an ulterior motive
Stances formulated for satisfaction

They shout and curse your name privately
Never face-to-face
Doesn't matter who is in the wrong
Dishonesty is a disgrace

I make thoughts known aloud
To whom they're relevant
If harboring feelings towards someone
Make those emotions evident

How dare you speak ill my character
An object made of my name
My story used for your entertainment
But my life is not your game

Soft tender touching
Trapped by our sweet memories
Gentle cage locked tight

We are the poor.
We have no wealth.
Don't ask about our mental health
In fact walk past us.
Don't ask why
Just do not look us in the eye
Especially if you knew us before
When we wore socks and brushed our teeth
And hadn't given up and sank beneath
The awful maelstrom in our brain
Of fear, pain and damning shame.

We are the shadow people
But I see you,
And I know that you have shadows too.

Insomnia strikes some nights

Tangible darkness standing tall
Proud like a protective friend watching over me as I lie in bed awake

Let me take trip to someplace sunny or warm
Any adjective that doesn't describe my room

Paint you on ceiling in vivid colors

Scribble your name over the walls in blood

In naked essence you are this-pervasive

Bend so you resemble something easier on my battered heart to feel

Knows you
Doesn't know who you are

Other nights I am not an insomniac
The darkness tucks in my sleeping form like a parent lovingly telling their child a bedtime story

My muse visits dreams and won't let me forget for even one second

Bewildered like arrows flying backwards from the target

And white birds sing melody similar to ours and it intensifies my agony

Surreal as falling snow in sizzling July

Tongues no longer twisted like tree roots

Moist darkness kisses goodnight like you once did
Not nearly as sweet

I yearn for it to be you instead