Solitude can be packed with others
and those others can make you unintentionally isolated

but there is a solitude irrespective of whosoever should seek her
that rewards with a companionship nothing short of eternal.

I know some friends consider me
To be a dour dharma dude
That's ok because
As they say
Each to their own food
Or wine
Or entertainment  time
And their own rules
For love and hate
Of every thing
Like my silly little rhyme

One look in a clean mirror
Can give me such a fright
If all I saw were me
Out there
What a horrid sight!
That would be,
If all I could see is me!

Sean Hunt
Windermere Jan 7 2016

You've issued a challenge,
Having it return back to you.
Of a love long ago,
With shelled memories of past youth.
But you struggle and fight,
For the reaction you wish for.
Being told in the end,
You want him even more.
You test to break,
But your challenge is beginning to fail.
For he's in for the long haul,
Your escape growing small and stale.

These are the things
Bad days are made out of.

Too much *****
And too little foresight
A recipe for bad decisions
Drinking can bring out a persons character
But you were a more real monster
Than I was equipped for
You were sober
When you tore off your fleshy mask.
See,
It was MY drinking
That brought out your real character

I am not a fool
And even less of a victim
And you should have thought
Before you deemed a few shots
A good enough way to get me vulnerable

Because I'm not a fool
and even less of a victim
And you weren't able to take advantage.
But even though I kept my body private
To those who do not have a personal invitation
The hands you put on me leave heat on my porcelain skin
Where fire starts to kindle
A rage only seen in hatred
And it's cracking my complexion
The anger underneath my eyes.
My skin you touched without asking
A snake slithering under the flesh you call a home
When I said no I meant it
And I enforced it.

But I'm not a fool.
And I'm less of a victim.
And it kills me to know you tried.

These are the things bad days are made of.

a green screen,
the imaged voice
in my head.

all is
but
what it is.

and when
spring comes,
wounded trees
bear a blossom
in their own blood.

Scared to live
Scared to die
Trapped in a paralyzed
state of mind
Hold me close
Let me feel your beating heart
Remind me that I’m alive
That I am not falling apart
I hate it when monsters whisper that I’m broken
because I know that with you
I am whole
I hate it when I feel like I still need pain
because I know that your love
is much better for my brain
I’d much rather kiss you
than feel the bite of the blade
I’d much rather dance with you
than shiver in the rain
So why can’t I comprehend
that life is not so bad?
Why can’t I understand
what a million others already have?
Why can’t I just keep walking and sing
A love song for you, my darling, my king
A poet can never help but ponder
A poet always lets her mind just wander
And when I wander I am afraid
Because peeking in dark corners reminds me
that there’s an end to all days
But I don’t want to wander or ponder
No, I’d much rather just stay
right here in your arms,
I’d rather look at you and say
that forever I will love you
‘till the end of our days.