Day passes on to night,
Night passes on to day,
Every second that passes
Witnesses my heart's decay.

My heart lost in its previous agony
Sheds tears of sedation,
Numbing its own passions,
To forget its almost amputation.

My heart has suffered many losses,
So my brain continually consoles it,
My soul now conflicted,
As to how they should together truly fit.

My heart and mind have lost their balance,
Lost their ability to function and thrive,
Together as a partnership,
Under the observance of my soul's derive.

I'm too tired and too weak
From carrying all these worries
About things that may go wrong
Or things that never happened at all
I only have the will to take steady steps
Because my conquered failures hold me up

I'm too tired and too weak
I've lost my will to even breathe
Due to all the useless talking I do
And the inhaling of nothing I retain
I only now have the will to exhale
All the sweet moans I've swallowed whole

I'm too tired and too weak
To find the will to live the mundane
And excite flames from ashes as before
Or feed from the dull light in the dark
I only now continue this tired heartbeat
Because someone out there is feeding it life

I refuse to be one of those people
that everyone chooses to love once she is dead
Don't wait until I'm lifeless and can no longer hear you
to start giving a **** about me
If I wasn't good enough for you while I was alive
I sure as hell won't be good enough for you when I'm dead
If there is something you need to tell me
do it while I can still hear you
If you want to see me
make plans with me
If you love me
tell me while I am still here to love you back
Do not wait until I am a pile of ashes
to confess everything you ever wanted to say to me

capitals irk me.
parentheses are comfortable, like my love embraces me, like i slide letters into envelopes, or don't, rather.
uneven lines and fragmented line endings feel more accurate,
real, everything that is not posed or
staged, everything that keeps you
hanging on to the last syllabic
exhale.

I retreat into myself
Into the corridors of me
I lounge on the well worn flagstones
Gazing on the marble columns
Arranging tapestries and paintings in
A more perfect order
I stalk down old hallways and explore unnamed galleries with a
Single candle to push back the deep
Sometimes rooms are filled with old Furniture
Sometimes entirely empty
Once feeling brave I held onto
The threshold of such a room and
Stretching out I hold the candle aloft in the chasm. Nothingness, darkness complete the light puddles at my feet pitiful.
When I recall that yawning abyss the silence of
It persists.
In ballrooms I play Chopin's waltzs' for no one  in particular
Yet I take my bow and my place at the head of a table set for a score of kings
I lay on marble steps trying to guess the riddles that my echo whispers
I climb the  towers and the spires to dizzying heights and many weeks I was lost in the labyrinth of cellars of basements of tombs beneath
I have seen strange things lately: a chair upturned or
Bed unmade, quills still wet, and doors open and shut of their own volition in the inky black
I swear I have seen before
A tall figure in a hooded cloak dart
Into the shadows, and it did not seem
Altogether human

I read for years inside my library  
And have spoken at length to Shakespeare and Plato
I have seen Yggdrasil and the seven hells
And sped through time with
H.G Wells. Of death and moon, of birds and galaxies I am enamored.
Tea with Julius Ceaser, chess with Captain Hook.
Breakfast with The Buddah
Coffee with The Christ
Did you know that Captain Ahab takes His water with a squeeze of lime? No Ice. Abraham Lincoln and Mark Twain know me by my first name, I have fenced with the Gods of Olympus and of Asgard and I remain undefeated. The divine crowd my hearth and many nights have been passed here in quiet conversation, with Confucius, with Archimedes, with Epictetus, Davinci, and the brothers Grimm
I have lived ten thousand lives and Will live another ten

-Without a single thought of you-

I wander
To my garden
Gently lit by paper lanterns
The path is smooth and heady
The amber blossoms
And weathered sculptures
Make my eyelids heavy
Monuments with fists clenched beat my
Ego ******
New flowers sprout from the ivy throat
Always things are grown but never overgrowing
I steal through the hedge maze that only I know
To the secret center where no plant grows
Pavilion and pond
Where no bird sings year long
In that quiet I endeavor
To look without fear
Into the pupil of forever

God creates rain
to make you feel
less lonely;
to be the friend
that you need
when you want
to cry.

n.e

promises locked onto a small hand
became broken fingernails
that were sharp as the needles
that littered your bedroom floor.
you never told me secrets anymore.

pink lemonade was mixed with
other things. stronger than the bleach
you used to dye your hair. sickly summers
in your throat reminded me of palma violets.
i’d hate to know what went inside it.

the people you loved became
people you’d forgotten.
i like to think you loved me once.
but now i live in your memories
and our childhood shines faintly like dreams.