I had a dream last night,
You were there but without a face like usual.
We stood atop a cliff,
I stood too close to the edge like usual.
I recall a deafening silence bouncing off the waves.
You couldn't hear them bash against the rocks.
I turned my back upon the sun,
Setting deep into its routine slumber.
I faced your faceless face and I spoke softly,
Loud enough to break apart the silence;
Like great claps of thunder,
'Tell Mum I fell'.
You didn't flinch when
I stepped backwards;
2 steps too far.

Stretched figure strains
working hard to get by,
while staying sore and tired
most of his life.

Lonely man in a home,
family forgotten.
Siblings lost to time.
Skin wrinkled, mostly deaf
eye sight almost gone.
No one knowing
what is going
on inside his mind.

Abused wife
desperately trying to get along
stressed and angry all the time,
always running away.

Housing brat
walks the block.
Neighbors
hear his mother scream,
know that something isn’t right
but they don’t do a ****** thing.

Abandoned brother,
abandoned son,
lonely druggee
judged by everyone
steals this and some of that
just to get something
to distract him from the fact
that his immediate family
doesn’t want him to come back.

I’ll be the keeper of their stories.
Though you might never know their names,
might never know their shame,
I will not let you forget their pain.

The Bath-House
When I was twelve years old I discovered
a bath-house near the docks we didn't have a bathroom
at home only a toilet for four families.
In I went- I had my intrepid moment- cubicles were you
Could undress in peace get a piece of soap, a towel which
was  a novelty.
My first shower, god how I loved it warm water and soap
I might have, no, I don't think so that came later.
I had a shower as often as I could the bath-house was shut
on Saturdays and holidays.
It was incredibly  cheap but for a boy 1 Krona was much
I had to ask my aunt for money to buy sweets and shamelessly
used them for my secret vice.
Well, the bath-house has gone a block of expensive flats with
a view of the harbour. Everything changes but not always
for the better

talkative dolphins, computer mice, and you & me
they're all things that click
your smile and stupid honey hair
they're all things that stick
in my memory like clichés and glue
like how I'm stuck on you

feelings and ridiculous bright eyes
they're all things I'm distracted by
also when we laugh so hard we cry
while I'm trying to pocket the sparks that fly
because they're unsuitable
but apparently immutable
just why...
why why why why WHY
why is it you
why does it have to be you

because the sinking feeling has sunk
that even if I was drunk
I wouldn't be able to tell you
the things I try to drown in fried food and old jazz songs
like how I've felt for so long
always trying to ignore it
as I awkwardly store it
wishing we'd explore that
you're the only one
that causes the stuttering and heart fluttering
and the poem's sputtering as the rhyme scheme cracks
while my feelings attack
and so much of me wants you...
and your stupid honey hair
to love me back.

you say that when i’m skinny
i’ll be pretty,
but don’t you see that now
i smile easily,
and my eyes look like the stars?
don't you see that my laughter
sounds like a song,
and my feet are lighter
and nothing weighs me down?
you say i will be pretty,
but don’t you see that i already am,
that i always have been?
don’t you see i am much more than
pretty,
that i am someone with dreams,
with hope and light?

I bled the pen dry, then
just threw it away  into
the trash alone...

For a moment I felt bad,
I had held it for so long
ushered my thoughts.

But now I treated it like a
one night stand, used it
and changed the sheets.

I picked up a new one and used
it as I had before, the guilt had
faded but the ink had not.

I never could stand cigarettes
That was just the way it went
But now they remind me of your lips and
I think I love their scent