What is it about cigarettes
that makes them poetic
is it the fire or being
a reminder of death
is it the stink
that pushes people away
but mixes perfectly with
the fingers that so delicately
hold onto the smoke
is it the feeling it gives
when you know
you hate what you do
when you feel a little power
in your fingertips
a nihilistic view of life
is it the lips that
inevitably look sweet to taste
maybe it's the soul in looking for

The world and all I knew
All I could see and ever wanted to......
Came into view so vividly
Far away complicated things
Dissolved with ease
My whole existence suddenly
Bent into a distinct curvature
To a central focal point
And now my world revolves
Around you......
I live to love you
And I love loving you.......
And now I just need someone to say it to.......

We hadn’t realised…

That we spoke of love
that was enshrouded
by child-like naïveté.

We had then,
fire in our hearts,
sparks in our eyes
and clouds in our heads

but

marbles in our mouths.

And you
Like the dawn
Never last for long
But I wait up in the morning
To see orange glaze
Before you dissipate
Into day
Into night

We get up
We work
We in darknesses
Lurk
We of earth
We forget
We were stars
Before birth
We revert to
Desert
One another
In peril
We civilized people
Prefer to be feral
And where all the wild things go
We reload
And we bode
Of extinction
Instinctively
Sown
We are harvesters
Harbingers
Of the undoing
Pollutants,
Intoxicants,
Blood debts accruing
Our own bitter end
Our untimely demise
We are all
That the known universe
Can surmise
And perhaps we are fallen,
Condemned,
Walking dead
But in fight for our life
We are thee
Watershed

When I sit and think about you,
I have to face the harsh reality
that I’m grieving a person that doesn’t exist anymore…
This version of you isn’t in love with me.
You probably don’t think about me as much as I do of you.
I wonder if you ever sit and fantasize of what could be or if you’ve forgotten all about me.

I hope somewhere deep down you wish that your “one” could of been me, because god do I wish mine was you.

cascading through the storm surge
I reach for the vine
but drown in my addiction

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.