wake up on the other
side of noon, bottle of
whiskey within grasp.
start sluggin'. who needs
today. water runs in
slow patterns through
arteries, woodwork,
some stranger's teeth.
rain runs inside of
me, coalescing, cold,
pure. washing away
the troubles of yesterday
in exchange for this
new sky. it still
looks the same. in
exchange for this day's
melancholia: it will
persist and hang,
a fog to stumble on
below. a tired footstep,
to spurn dreams where
there's something else
here. to hide from
the nothingness that
falls in fat drops from
potential.

As dawn approached I heard the news
they told me you had gone
the sun it shone in bluest sky
the birds chirped out their song
and here I sat with paperback
emblazoned with your name
as sadness visited a while
upon this fateful day.
The gift you gave in sweetest words
entrusted to us all
and now your heart has answered
the final sirens call
with heavy heart I write these words 
for you will write no more
in paper tomes you will live on
In peace forever more.

When are you coming back?

When I fall asleep my eyes meet yours.

he was like a suicide
falling apart
at my wrist

This isn't even a poem
these are a few words
a few lines
which in time
like most things
will fade.
All the sentences
and pronouns
and verbs
and periods
will fade.
Period.
These words
which were
written for you
and you
and you
were written
for me
They shall fade
just like the
bruises
and scars
and cuts
and bumps
which you
and you
and you
all left
but just like
you
these faded
too.