a pony ride turns hollow when unshod hooves slip and tear
lots of room for prey and avarice on the prowl
I'm hiding sad shadows in the gods' kind shade
the position you've cosseted was never yours
and a bouquet in full bloom lies face down in a trash can
and a dead plant stands in the corner of a takeaway outlet
your shadow came to talk to me when you fell into deepest asleep

a frosted windowpane is sandwiched in snow
a slick oil spill in a cat's hungry paw
incredibly, convo is created in terse debate over a teaspoon
similarly, two ladies sit and sip in evening caps

amarna letters get torn or burnt to maintain the unknown

This morning before
I ever lifted my head,
I turned to see
Your half of the bed.
And what a harsh reminder
Of how I'm growing old
With your side of the bed
Still unbearably cold.
Your sheets are not tossed,
Your pillow unpressed--
All lovely reminders
Of my current distress.
Was it not merely a month ago
That I was curled against your skin?
We were perfect puzzle pieces,
Your shoulder to my chin.
All day long
We would curl up and sleep
With nothing like time
And business to keep.
But what a terrible disease
Lurked inside my mind.
I never thought I could be
So selfish and unkind.
If only I had known
I was capable of such sin
I never would have let
Our cursed romance begin.
I could promise to never
Let it happen again.
I could take my pills
Like I refused to then.
I could be so much better,
My darling, please see.
If only, if only
You'd come back to me.

Such childless and clueless fools,
That it makes me fall into laughter
To think that men still search high and low
For the gold they've always been after.
And how jealous, I'm sure, they all would be
If they found that swirling in this glass
Is liquid gold that makes me one
With the writers of ages past.
Silence is golden, or so they say,
But this gold I own births words.
For one thin river down my throat
Flow out words that have never been heard.
Still the voices in my head warn of addiction.
But perhaps their thirst is great as mine.
Is not that how i started drinking gold?
I could no longer quench them with wine.
I am always alone, so it seems
So nobody sits in my path
Of things I could potentially hurt
If I have more than one glass.
So I will continue with liquid gold,
Feeding my paper with words,
Until my eyes are filled with tears
And my poems turn into lines blurred.