The cost of a dream
castrates it
uneven
unclean
sharp as a window's peak
or the mock of hindsight
is it because it's a selfish thing
to want what is wanted?
Can we allow ourselves
to be purely happy
without the inevitable afterthought
of why is there always a price,
or anxiously expecting negativity?
Perhaps it's just me...
unless the dream is for another.

Relationships based predominantly on *** are like chewinggum:
Sure it's mouthwatering and juicy at first, but when the flavour goes you're left going through the motions. Sooner or later you're gonna bite your tongue or be spat out on the pavement and trampled upon.

Sponsored by the good people of beefjerky,

Comes a time when you surmise opportunity is ripe to dare a move
to allow fingers to do what they were meant to:
to reach and touch another's.
Or a hunch
those words often held
in check
have reached the point to breach
the dam of uncertainty
cos you can't hold 'em back.
Comes a time when there is certainty
in a feeling that there's
more to this than pleasantries,
and perceived fringes of opportunities.
Comes a time when you commit
those thoughts
and digets
and lips
to the lean
to the kiss
to the pathway
of least
resistance.

Dainty hours
spent with her petal soft smile
lush exchanges
how her mouth makes words warm
delicate  moments
when our eyes held each other
little desolate
when hands separated
and time disconnected us
as it blindly does
without so much as an apology

It's a quarter past Wednesday,
the coffee's late,
my bag-o-bones is dragging slow.
Heard little bo peep sold her sheep for gin
killing off the nursery rhyme.
Can't decide if that's a bad thing.
Feel like a late planted seed
unsure if it's roots can reach
deep enough to sustain strong growth.
Maybe tomorrow I'll have shoots and a little hope,
or leaves to sooth doubt,
or buds of competence
or fruits of confidence
and a coffee when I need it most.

There is a countable
distance between
the silence
where I sit
and the street
where I see
a mobile cacophony
of pedestrians
of various speeds
and multiple gaits.
From singular  
to numerous bodies
together and apart.
A part of me wants
to join them
apart needs
to avoid them.
So I count the distance
between voices
and my thoughts
silently
hush now
urging them all to stop
and embrace the nearest one
and say without words
life can be beautiful
if we allow.