I cleared all the rubble,
turned it to mulch,
a soft bed for blooming
above my chest,
behind my ribs.
A garden grows
where grief once rooted,
touched by morning sun
and the warmth
of summer’s start.

Something gentle
is growing in me.

A pub sign
Swinging
Through the rust
Completely
Bleached by the sun
I have a vague
Memory
Of its fitting
From when I was about 10
Summer holiday
Ball under my arm
We'd be playing all day
Walked under
Two ladders
Three fellahs
******* the flash
New *******
In place
It's just about
Still there
Today.

i have a sadness lurking in me
the base of every poem i write
the core of my love
as i give myself papercuts
from your letters
and your poems
and i sit quietly
in the shadow
of your starlight.

I saw Time standing at the corner of my room.
He was watching me—writing this poem,
Witnessing my mistakes and metaphors allure to doom.
He exactly knew what I was going to write:
The final act, the audience's reaction, and all things accompanying this sect.
Still, like a silent teacher, he didn’t react.
I had to address my fault with not-so-wholesome tact.

It acted like a father, watching my every move.
It always knew when I would be awake, and when I would snooze.
Even when things harmed me, it let me choose;
He didn’t tell me the answers to my quest—
Whether it was about my growth, journey, or a silly love test.

I bow my head to my teacher—this testing Time.
Gratitude to all which was phased by Time.

We are not born with fire—
we choose it.
In the silence of doubt,
in the ache of waking pain,
we reach for a flame
that doesn’t burn,
but builds.

Some of us burn
not to destroy,
but to light paths
no one dared walk before.
We carve names into time
with trembling hands
and unwavering hearts.

Creation is not in limbs,
but in vision.
In the breath that shapes words,
in the mind that dares to dream
even as the body folds.

But even fire,
no matter how bright,
must one day soften
into ember.
Even warriors
deserve a gentle sunset.

So when peace calls your name—
when stillness becomes the goal,
not the obstacle—
may you rest with pride,
not regret.

For the world remembers
those who chose to live
with courage,
to create in the dark,
to love in the storm.

And to my friend,
who walks with wisdom and weight,
know this:

You are not fading.
You are finishing—
and every step leaves warmth behind.

Make sure there's nobody around
To see you leave this place,
Keep your eyes down,
Don't even look back at me.

If they ask why you were gone,
You were studying; you ran back,
I know they'll ask why you're flushed,
But keep your head down and nod.

Drive down the backroads when you leave,
Replay the words I always say:
"You can always stop"
But I know we won't get there

To those meetings in parking lots,
Because we're just lying in these rooms
Continuing this illicit affair
Because we failed to hide our longing stares.

It started with just a kiss, now it's so much more,
And it'll end with all of this,
Dying and dying like the stars we sat under
A million times together.

When you leave, take everything with you,
Delete all the photos, and emails,
Like we didn't exist at all,
I'm sorry I left you stranded again.

But don't take my words to heart,
I'm just high of the taste of you,
It'll all wear away soon,
No illicit affairs to die anymore.

And if we talk again, I'm screaming on the inside,
Because if you try to call me baby,
I'll cry, like we died, and I can't let you
See all those parts of me again.

So don't come up to me again
Like we're back to normal—it's just pretend
And I know that I'm a broken mess,
But you made me keep coming back

So I know all too well how this goes,
This game, this play, this twisted show,
And I can't deny that I would ruin myself
For you a million times.

But one vision I could endorse
is the scene early in 28 Days Later
when Jim leaves the hospital and
walks across Westminster Bridge into
a deserted London at sunrise
as Godspeed You Black Emperor play

Finally I'd be the rightful
Emperor of London
raid supermarkets, steal cars
(it's not really stealing any more)
until, as the rest of the film
inevitably points out

You'd have to deal with
the dead
the undead
the rats and
the loneliness

Although I've been preparing
for that
my whole life

F♯ A♯ ∞