The chains have become a part of me, as I lost count of all the years. Endless minutes passed me by, hands to clumsy to catch my tears.

I can't help but know deep inside, that my soul just wastes away. Confined in this solitude, where I was forever put to stay.

Every story has a witch, whose ugly cackle can make you shake. Evil that can't easily be defeated, by true love or a wooden stake. 

Shadows watch me while I sleep, and whisper that I must stay. Hope seems to dim now, with each passing day.

A prince was supposed to rescue me, but age has now set in. Youth has faded beyond the years, the signs of time carved into skin.

Fairy tales did me in, I realized as I step closer towards the drop. Beautifully poised I finally took that leap, knowing it's the only way to make it stop.

Love is indeed the most tragic form of art.

(from 2012)*


A chance reveals itself before me,
Happenstance too good to pass-
I take this to the street, I’m changing how I see.

My heart races, my heartbeat fast begins to flee
My world becomes vast
In a waterless sea

I see the movement in every tree
As I float on a greener grass
Compelled by my knees to take me where I see

I follow the calling, only a body
A nail guided by magnets moving as mass
I’m no longer confined by reality

A world crafted by an artisan in geometry,
To think every star that meets my eye greets me from the past
And we are living trapped and pointlessly.

The sun peers over the horizon at me,
Light warms my world fast
But warmer are my thoughts, the chance that found me
Moved my world and set it free.

I must have loved him before I was six
I think
I don't really remember
I do recall the middle years
Of icy hatred and tears
When shame was his game
And the narcissistic whine
Was mine

By the time he died
When I was sixty-three
Everything was fine
Between Dad and me

We are at peace now  

Sean Hunt  

Windermere April 2015

I'm so glad there's an ocean
Between you and me
Distance and dreams
Are all that can be

If you were next door
What there would be
Is the danger and drama
Of proximity

I tremble to think
Of the crevice and *****
On the slippery hills of
Love full of hope

Windermere, Jan 25 2016

There is no truth
And there is no lie
There's a mind making up
Every thing that goes by

When we look in a mirror
There is no one there
But still we stop
We stop and stare

We're better than Dali
Or Pablo Picasso
We are master painters
Artists also

They touch our minds
With pigments and paint
We make a world
From empty space

Some of our works
Shimmer and shine
With visions of summer
Flowers and wine

But our canvas can cry
And scream in pain
As our world wretches
Again and again


Windermere Jan 25 2016