When our desired destination
Is just a right turn
Why do we then
Go left
Drive around the block
Once, twice, three times
Take three more left turns
Ending up where we started
And realize only then
How to turn right?

And how come, by then,
That road doesn't exist anymore?

Because we were never really
Behind the wheel at all

I love you like i love my cup of coffee.
First thing in the morning
In the middle of day
Or late at night.
Dark, bitter, sweet or both.
Right now, later, and always constantly.
Forever.

I'm falling endlessly
into a pit,
poor timing when I jumped.
Surely this
is the end?

Heart pounding,
darkness makes way for light
and for a moment
I forget
where I am.

Turning restlessly,
the vaguely familiar blurs that my
poor vision allows,
I find your face and realize
my jump
was a dream.

It seems sleep gave you back
years of your life.
The sand in your eyes make you
a boy again.
And I can't help but wonder
the dreams you could be chasing
or the lack thereof.

Your breath comes slowly,
your chest rising
and falling.
The broken gears
and cut wires
of your small frame
coming together
to create
a smooth running
sleep machine.

For a moment
I'm jealous,
it looks so easy to do
when I'm watching you.
Like you're more capable than I
of rest
and relaxation.
You found the switch that turns off
your brain
that I
was not built with.

The next moment,
my thoughts
are far.
I struggle to tell the difference
between what's happened
and what's dreamt.
Panic sets in
and as I sort reality
your eyes
flutter open.

Eyelashes shaking sleep
from your face.
Like fallen leaves
taking off into the sky
from a sudden
wind.

Your eyes focus
on me
expectingly.

Like before you woke up,
you knew exactly
where
you'd be.

Your lips stretch
into a lazy smile
breaking my daze with a dreamy,
"Good morning".

And once again,
I'm left to wonder
if I'm here
falling
after a poorly timed
jump.

Sometimes
the burning
is so powerful
that I
might as
well be
tied to a stake
like the pagan
wise-women of yore
mistaken for witches
no dousing
with gasoline
necessary
for the inside
is already so
slick with
simmering
flammability
combustable
liquids
that trickle
down my thighs
into the earth
and create dark steam
that turns into light
as its luscious
vapor rising
from my being
Soon I will
simply evaporate
and become
atmospheric
ether floating
up towards
stars
and raining
love down
into the
tender receptacle
of your
being

you're gone.
i can't breathe, without you.
someone tell me what to do now.