I know the pain you feel is deep,
your want from life is simple peace.
And though I cannot guarantee,
please listen closely, as I speak.

Presently you stroll alone,
searching for a hand to hold.
You feel your sorrow in your bones,
in harshest sun, you still feel cold.

Pre - dawn, however, is darkest night
that must be followed by morning light.
I pray you won't give up the fight,
the universe will set things right.

I know at times, it seems unclear
that happiness is always near.
But wholly I believe my dear,
someday soon, you'll find some cheer.

The ink in my pen
Is my escape
My Anesthetic

I can do it-
because I have no other option.

The sideline view
Of a poet's life.
Topics free falling
In ranks of predictable verse.
Lacking vitality,
Inspirations disperse.

My thoughts wander.
Vibrating to the hum of
Flourescent lights above,
As the cursor blinks
In hypnotic rhythm.
Drawing me into
The pale blank screen
And beyond.

Falling once again
Into daydreams
Of her golden hair glowing
In Autumns waning light.
Hands merged in a gentle grip
Warming the evening chill
With a soft peck of our lips.

Longing in stillness,
Attending in silence,
The cursor, again, must wait
The many pensive stages
In a poet's futile task of
Placing verses on pages.

I woke up
thinking about that time
we stifled our movements
to keep from being heard
by your friend in the next room

The sun on your back,
I tried to wrap my fingers
around rays of light
and run them down your rib cage

Our lips hit like bolts of lightning
followed by thundering smiles
and streams of hot air

Your hands held me
as I wiped the hair
from your forehead
and laughed into your ear

As you try to peel your body
away from mine
I summon you back
with the taste of my tongue
until you have ingrained it
into your memory
and can remove yourself
without unanswered questions