In the stuper of every day thinking
Subsides the need of learning.
The words that go unsaid,
The thoughts that are unheard, unfelt.

All will make sense in the end.
The acceptance, the hope.

It matters, the constant feeling,
But not the persistent thought.
What goes before, not what
Needs to come. And all that,
which steers the worldly.

The more that is put off,
The less that needs putting off.

The light that is unseen.
The focus that is the being.

You walk with me you know, still.
Where I breathe and feel so too do you.
You hide, in every shadow I cast,
You linger in my nose and mouth,
In the waiting room, you accompany me.

And so I am never alone, you live in me,
As I lived in you, inseparable.
So when I lie to sleep, or think,
You lie with me, warming the the pillow,
And it is not with guilt, but with love.

In the knowledge and comfort that you warm,
That corner saved always for you.
Where love blossoms and cherishes
Each passing day as though it were its last.
Or as though it is its last.

I wish there was an artery,
That stretched from my chest, to yours.
That carried the blue roll,
And the red points.
The dark cylindrical,
And the bright rectangular.
The prickly frost,
And the smokey warmth.
That I am when I think of you.

The only thing worse than writing a depressing poem,
Is when you have no depressing poem to write,
And all you want is that pain to flow, and that plug to come unstuck.
Like a cigarette addiction, when you don't have them,
And you know you're better off...
You still want some more.

There is only so much a season and a star can do for you,
I need that rush, that spilling, that exhale.
I want that exposure, that smart, cool and sharp twist,
I need that smack of word on tongue.
Like the knockout blow, delivered by the bully
On the weakest child in school.

Smack.

It is strange how I leave you,
Not with the fire or ice that I would once have imagined,
Not with thought or lack of, or with watery cheeks,
I leave you with a certain nothing, an empty anything.

It is indeed sad how I leave you- I suppose,
If one were to look at it,
But I do not even do that now,
As once I could not have stopped.

Why would I? You are gone, so am I.
If one were to look at it- I suppose.

You walk with me you know, still.
Where I breathe and feel so too do you.
You hide, in every shadow I cast,
You linger in my nose and mouth,
In the waiting room, you accompany me.

And so I am never alone, you live in me,
As I lived in you, inseparable.
So when I lie to sleep, or think,
You lie with me, warming the other pillow,
And it is not with guilt, but with love.

In the knowledge and comfort that you warm,
That corner saved always for you.
Where love blossoms and cherishes
Each passing day as though it were its last.
Or as though it is its last.

Beyond the stage of consequence
lies experience and confidence.

Nurture all for competence
in this world of mild coincidence.

Leave all to chance, in trance, queue
entrance to this balance.

Tip-toe, to and fro, get in line, make time?

No.

Tip the scale, create a tale, don't be a their tail-
Set sail, leave a trail... Others follow,
Bright Tomorrow!

Leave competence and consequence with nonsense and ignorance.