bourbon soaked vanilla,
for those long and brisk
winter evenings, craving
warmth and sweetness.

orchid boat,
for the sailor on the ship
on high-tide seas --
a sublime flavour on the tip
of his tongue.

the candle inside
this dimly lit room
simmers;

still she burns,
and the fragrance
is bliss

Blind, inconstant love:
you rose up and shattered
on me like the burst salt wave
over the night promontory.
I was so unprepared...

And then you receded,
back into the sea, impossible
to differentiate from the rest,
the only traces of you
what remained on me.

plastic bags hang beneath my tired eyes
but i got up this morning and i did it.
and i did it yesterday and i will do it tomorrow, and the next day too.
and i will keep on going even if the bags get darker and longer
and i want another five minutes of darkness and comfort.
i will not stop for nothing
and then one day i will wake up and i will have no purple eyes
because i am used to early mornings
and i won't want to sleep in
because i need the sunshine
and i will look back and be proud,
even if i skipped some days or slept in.
Because I did it. I did it. No one did this for me.

And trust me, everyone.
I promise that you can do it too.
you can do anything, even if your world is catching fire,
be the phoenix and renew from the ashes.
have a little hope and you will get there.

Once, I was a man standing
in an airport, holding her -
a meadow of sweet, a hand
that browsed my secret self,
an incandescent eye that found
a gasp in the gap. And then I wasn't -
stripped of my companion,
I succumbed to whisky's scalpel,
lonely's pollution.
Now, fringing a sorrowful noon shush,
I watch an orange crossbeam throb
of crawling sun die by my foot;
considering this, I meditate in this glass,
pushing whisky into myself with serious intent,
pinned down by choices that are not mine;
the days slouch forward, despite themselves.

Pour it.
Don't want to taste it
anymore.
Just pour it right
into my heart,
funnel it into my soul.
Flood me with it,
my head is swimming.
Pour it.
Vacuous vessel,
my body and mind.
Filled to the brim,
marinated and brined.
Sopped up.
Wrung out.
Pour it.
Pouring.
Down the spout.