The ringing in my
exhausted ears
makes a sound
like the doors
of a subway
closing.

All I
needed
to do
was fall
to learn
to fly.

Tell me
is there fog
in Vienna?

I will always be
acceptable and
yet comfortably
disappointing.

Words
won't
water
flowers.

Once
we
were
able
to
cre-
ate
life
with
only
words.

After minutes
it's as if
I've known
you forever.

I wish I understood
why I've lost the ability
to fully understand.

If everything happens for a reason,
surely not every reason is a bad one.

Always a writer
always running
out of things to say.

Just out of curiosity,
what was it that
killed the cat?

Was
it
really
that
easy
to
leave,

or
are
you
just
as
hurt
as
me?

Together
we watched
the sun

rise deep
into the shallow sky.

We sat quietly in the car that never moved
covered in the busy shadows of the garage
you told me I'm proud of you, you know that?
and to silence we returned.

Today
I took
a new
way home

and I'll
never
give it
back.

In flirtatious quiet
we dodge eye contact
and escape studious looks
in hope that one might fall in love
with the other without even a single word.

Oh
how it hurts
to trust
so completely.

You love me for who I am
or I am a **** good liar.

Love
is wasted
on the loved.

I had a space
in the shape of you
before I knew you
were even a shape.

Some say
the moon favours
those who listen to it

and some
have never listened
to the moon.

No wonder
I love you.

Dear man in the moon,

There are awful things on the ground,
and we can't escape the sun.
It's far worse here than when I was found,
but my days with you are done.

Now the oxygen is thin
and bodies lay in snow-capped caves
we'e weighted down by heavy lids
carrying today's rations
and yesterday's burden

one of your breaths is three of mine
sleeping as easy as seeing
in white-outs too far up
nowhere is warm anymore
and we're telling tales of altitude sickness
while coughing into our sleeves.

We lay there, calm
Talking about our wildest dreams
Chasing only the end of our conversation
Hoping never to catch it
With hands laced loosely
Our breathing returned to pace
Hearts steadied once again,
It was purely right
Everything was warm.

For nothing
Worth doing
Is easy.

Every time I feel close to you,
I feel like running away,
which is exhaustingly ironic
because every time I run away,
you try to get closer.

Only the foolish are faithful,
and only the faithful are foolish.
Isn't that wonderful?

I mean,
It's not
like I'm
falling
for you
on purpose.

That night
we nearly drowned
in a downpour

and when the sun
seared the morning
we didn't catch our breath.

Imagine how many people
Have fallen temporarily in love with you
On the train
On the street
In the car
In your room
Or after you'd fallen in love with them.

I'd wake up
beside you
to tell you
I love you,
but you
are too
far away.

The first few trains in the morning
in early January are still so dark

you'll feel as if you're still sleeping
trying to make out familiar buildings

we're only now recovering from holiday glow
so no one here wants to be here

but out the window is a hint of comfort
a whisper that the week will so soon end

if you blink they'll wink right back
the flickering blue and yellow lights

of home.

You outgrew me
and I didn't mind

I grew at my own pace
and later left you behind.

You step into the dark
and you continue to walk
forward and it gets colder
but your footfalls follow
your feet further and further
further and further forward.

"There is ice in my veins
and I cannot see,
for I am my own reflection,"
the river sighed
as she explained her sorrow
to the little boy,
after he asked politely.

I like to call you
when I'm not really awake.
I only leave you messages, of course.
For I only let myself call
(I only allow myself
that poisonous release)
when I'm alone on the subway,
which happens very rarely.
So whatever I say gets lost
between forty-three thousand tonnes
of the strongest, sturdiest concrete
and the sky.

Now we wait
in the rain
for the sun
to come again.

Do not
steal kisses.
Ask for them,
politely.

Dying to live as if he was dying
he spoke of sleep in melatonin growl
all was grey in his sepia expression
and he dare not remember his name

with a twist of overqualified hands
he dragged the scratch ticket up an inch
across the faux-velvet subway seat
in regretful pull of the gambling fool

screeching between unsettled destination
he wrung friendly hands left alone for years
mottled digits that knew all so well
why his wife preferred the sofa.

This idea
of gardener and flower
is the wrong idea

we are both gardens and gardeners
we tend to ourselves
and sometimes we share seeds

the more we share seeds
the more we grow into each other

so one day soon
we may be one garden
tending to the flowers together.

Well
I guess
It's over
And I've
Got nothing
To do, other than
Get over myself, now.

I guess, sometimes
we leave people behind.
In the time it took for me
to see this was to be,
I must have left a few,
and I'm sorry if it was you.
But then again, perhaps I'm not -
you're better now, and if you forgot,
then I'm glad you did, it must be grand
to live with some ghosts you understand.

The sun travels
in light circles

sometimes
it brings you along

and sometimes
it eats you alive.

We let it
get too easy

to slip and fall
into the sun.

There is a song called "Gina"
that is banished from my headphones

but sometimes it returns, feeble
hidden away until I think it is gone

then I am in the sun
my retinas, tear ducts alight

the song is over too quickly
and there is silence again.

I tried to **** myself again
you said into the subway window

clickety-clack* said the train
in December said your reflection

I know I said but I didn't really
I didn't really know anything

you should probably stop
trying that I mean I stammered

I know

I had nothing else to say
you had nothing else to do

we sat in broken silence
until the train found my stop

clickety-clack
it whispered to me.

I'm going back to the hospital
you tell the train window

that's good* I say to your hair
it's best to be safe

I don't know what is best
yes you say but you don't know either.

I've been to too many funerals* I say
my eyes meet yours in the window

please don't make me go to yours
is what I didn't say aloud.

The mind is clay
but body and feelings
are the many, many layers
you must be careful not to break
on the way to soothe and mold the mind.