In the cafe we found each other,
I held her trembling hands across table as she told me that she loved me,
I told her she was my life and she smiled.
Coffee unfinished,
I carried her home, knowing that I loved her,
And in the heat of the bed and tangled in the twisted sheets, I knew that I loved her more and still more throughout the night.
In the morning when I woke, just for a moment, I tried to remember her face,
But there it was, in front of my own.
I lay then, in complete stillness, in the hope that somehow I might spend the rest of my days within the confines of that bed,
As I closed my eyes to listen to her breathing.

Autumn
Winter
Spring
Summer
Autumn

In the cafe I lost her,
She pulled her trembling hands away across the table as she told me she was leaving,
I told her she was my life but she winced.
Coffee unfinished,
I carried myself home, knowing that I loved her,
And in the heat of the bed and tangled in the twisted sheets, I knew that I loved her more and still more throughout the night.
In the morning when I woke, I spent every moment just trying to forget her face,
But there it was, in front of my own.
I lay then, in complete stillness, in the hope that somehow I might spend the rest of my days within the confines of that bed,
As I closed my eyes and wished I could stop breathing.

Now the love has left me,
And you're nothing more than human,
(Though I would not call you any less),
You're nothing more than human.

And now the charm has gone,
He too was nothing but distraction,
And faith would never come...

Now the hope is gone,
And even depression,
Obsession,
And desperation have left me.

Since my future never existed,
And faith would never come.

Now I have no calling,
Hardly knowing what to call myself.

Now I have nothing to wait for,
Now I have no meaning,
Now that I long for nothing,

I cannot call myself an artist,
And hardly call myself a student,
Now I am no poet, no dancer or musician,
For I have no substance
from which to build from.

Now that tears have left me,
Both from joy and from sadness,
I am nothing but a human.

And never before have I felt so lost.

I am not what I am,
Nor am I what people say I am.

I am a locked box,
Full of things I cannot share.
I am sly as a fox,
Often portraying that I do not care.

But this of course is untrue.
What do I desire?
You and your unyielding fire.
And yet I can never seem to tell you.

Who am I?
I am the unknown.

The waiting room was quiet
beside the faint click of the blinds
against an open window

A single dead fly on the table
on his back
with his legs pointing up

This death did not bother the models in the posters
As they smiled with bright white teeth from the wall
like they knew some great secret
that pale in comparison to the dead fly

I looked away from the poster and to the fly.
I began to wonder how the fly left this mortal coil.
peacefully or violently?

I theorized, cause I was in the mood,
that it was peaceful cause he had no obvious trauma to the body
But what do I know of a fly's anatomy?

Maybe his little heart just gave up
maybe he lost his way and then lost hope too

He tried to stay busy
buzzing away
but it was an act
trying to distract himself from the pain

He couldn't keep it up forever
his heart was too tired
and he deserved a rest
he had been through enough

So he stopped flying one day
and with one last sad beat
his heart just stopped

That what I theorized
My theory on the matter
I'll never know how the fly died
But that's what happens when the heart just stop
and it's not violent
it's peaceful

Autumn night drive
we follow country lanes,
Singing Queen.
As, in the condensation
on the windows,
We write words
and draw shapes.

And through the lines
we have made
we glimpse
tree after, silhouetted tree
passing on by
when the sky,
Dark as it is,
Still displays
the very faintest hues
of orange at its base.

And behind the words
we have written
we see
mysterious lights
drifting through some distant field.
And I find myself
made strangely aware
of the way in which
the world has always continued
to breathe
and move and live,
Each night and day,
Far beyond the enclosure
of my eyelids.

Behind our seat belts,
We are still,
While the world moves around us,
We're coming from somewhere,
And we're on our way home,
What does that mean?

When we were in the city,
In the town,
In the streets,
There was a plastic bag
caught on the plank of a bench,
And a ball stuck in a tree.
There was a man wheeling his bike in the twilight,
There were walls and walls and doors and floor...
And walls with yellow white squares on them
That got smaller as they reached the sky,

I saw life in the squares,
A family ate dinner,
A man was on the phone,
A woman read a book,
And a man drank alone.

The faster we moved,
I watched their bodies blur,
They do it everyday,
What does that mean?