Its haunting me,
the feeling I cannot escape.
I'm lost in this strange maze
with a strange feeling.
Though it sounds like nightmare
but it taste like a beautiful dream.
The sound of music
seems unreal.
It's like a melody, a lullaby
that keeps your heart awake.
The once an empty canvass
now seems to bloom with beauty,
filled with color and piquancy.

This dream isn't done
when I woke up with you.
I'm falling for you.

In a dream I felt the cool white
His sweet madness
Among anchor water lilies
The willows were trembling

A nest of twilight kisses
Where the stars are shivering

Scented sweet and wild
From violet forests
Our arms intertwine
With beads of love

**** it,
Damage.
The small hole that lies
In all hearts
Is a larger part
Of my whole,
My arteries hold no
Holy blood, but
Ole faithful spurts
More life then ancient articles.
Art is Gold.
Not folded in papers.
Though, these zig-zags have
Had their fair share
Of wear and tear on my soul
My core
Is iron ore
I wore, and tore
The fabric of space
For us
To meet face to face
Fate
Has nothing to do with it
I only ate
The apple
To show the faults
Within me
With sin
I have nothing
Left
But what heaven sent
Right
Next to me.
Where window’s to a soul
Hold enough water
To feel a widows pain.
I see through you
Like sheen stockings
Worn
To hide
What you’re trying to show
On purpose
You’re perping
Like the drug
That deceives me
Into believing that I need it
Needless to say
I’ll take needles
Of your love to vein,
In vane of God’s name
As I search
For the rib
I lost in his name
Competing with
My empty heart
For completeness.

“Zoomy zoomy zoomy zonch, crawly, crawl **** youzy you.” the caterpillar said. She was tired of wrapping and unwrapping herself for him. She knew how much he liked it and needed it. But it was ALL he needed. Her pudgy little flesh, ready to chew and spit out. Nothing ever hurt more than that. “At  least swallow me.” She said. “At least end me. But, no. Now when I go to cocoon, I’ll be sad and cold and covered in spit. “ But he nibbled her and gave her a squeeze and a slap and called it affection and went on away.
Poor little caterpillar. Her butterfly-self better be beautiful and fleeting. Because if you come round again, poor little girl gonna fly away swiftly, you best believe.

You are young
and still don't understand why you should be afraid of the dark
so you venture into it.
Leave behind the crying people,
and your parents blank faces
surrounding the urn that cradles your sister's ashes.
No one has told you why she wanted to be burned so you do not ask.
You don't know this yet, but you never will.

Imagine you are chasing fairies,
it helps you to ignore the cold,
the pinch of your Sunday shoes,
the voice of your older sister whispering that you will be caught.
But you are determined to have an adventure
and so you run.

Years from now you will remember this moment,
you will swear you could feel the brush of fairy wings
against your face as you rushed away from the marble mausoleum;
but there are no trees
only dirt, only gravestones,
only bushes too high and wide
for your arms to reach around.

Run until the ground rises up,
and greets your body with a bone crushing hug.
It will not let you go, no matter how hard you struggle
or how loudly you scream.
Dirt covers your head and you fear you are being buried alive.
You are not.
This will not stop the nightmares that come later.

(You are twenty and you are speaking to your therapist
she tells you to breathe, she tells you again.)

Time passes, as time has a habit of doing,
and you are standing above ground.
You cannot feel your fingers
only the curious stares of your cousins
and the long suffering sigh from your mother
who wipes the dirt from your face, absentmindedly.

“Did you go off to play and get lost?” she asks.
“You promised you'd stay put.”
You say nothing.

“You are so beautiful. Such pretty eyes.” she says, struggling to smile,
to say words that she thinks will calm the heart clawing at your chest
the way you clawed at the walls of your grave.
You are covered in dirt. There are rocks in your shoes.
You have lost your favorite bow.
You say nothing.

I am a tiger
pacing restlessly
behind the bars

of an open cage.

At the end of the night
you will fly to her window
and kiss her goodnight
with lips that promise
forever,

but you will be back at my side
before her window has closed;

and I will follow your
laughing blue eyes
into the night

dreading
the next person
who will use my     
pixie dust
to fly into your arms

You are as close as I will ever come to love.
              
                                         (Yet you are still

                                                          so far away
                                                          that even if I ran around
                                                          the mountain of mistakes
                                                          growing quietly
                                                          between our bodies
                                                          my regrets would reach you
                              
                                                                                                      before I did.)

I want to dream the dreams
that you have dreamt
and chase you through
your nightmares,
on bare feet,
through darkness and the forest of your memories.

(When I am close enough
I will catch your hand
in mine
and gently remind you
that soon
you will wake up

next to me.)

It's 7AM
     where you are
and where you are
         I am not.

So time
does not matter
because its passing brings you
no closer to me
                         (nor me to you)

All that matters is that
I am   here
and
you are       there
and I am
missing you
                           (again).

I have a weakness for a boy
with shadows in his eyes
and fire in his throat.

When he speaks,
like a dragon,
he exhales his truth
singeing all those who dare
come close.

A knowing fool,
I dance daringly
through the flames;

aching for a glimpse
behind a mask
he doesn’t know
that he still wears.