I listen to the whine of time
That goes in a line, a climb,
A silent sign wave; fine
Resonant and resilient,
Nearly sentient, it reminds
Of times of meditation,
Of peaceful celebration
Like music with no beat,
No melody and no lyrics
No clerics can well describe.

Whatever remains of before
I ignore; ideas like yesterday
Which is to say tomorrow,
Bring no sorrow here, no joy.
They are a ploy to change,
To rearrange the apogee
Of this lovely inner symphony
And bribe me with self-pity
In sympathy with some dream
Which once made me scream.

I imbibe in the circumstance,
A chance to muse on forever;
Words like never and regret
I forget and only think of serenity.
A rarity; an affinity with infinity
Entices me to surrender instantly
Serendipitously and trustingly,
Just me and the universe
Chapter and verse, still unwritten,
Unbidden, I surrender.

2 am is for the poets who
can't sleep because their
minds are alive with words
for someone who's not there.

For the alcoholics drinking
themselves into amnesia to
forget someone who left.

2 am is not for the lovers
asleep in each other's arms.

It is for the lonely, the ones
who are inlove with the
loved but are not loved in
return.

I found that writing worked best for me,
Like taking ecstasy, it let me be intimate
not just with others but with myself.

Ek-stasis,
Meaning to stand outside of oneself,
A removal to elsewhere, for the time being/a while is enough.

Now mark my words, what worked for me ain't necessarily
what will work for ye, after all,
Some people prefer drawing.

I find that music, dance
or any kind of exercise helps,
At the end of the day we're all just looking for what works best.

I felt your stare... stripping my soul.
Body tensing.... Heart rate out of control.
Lungs burning.

You spoke a word... I heard a song.
Mind bending... I accept I was wrong.
Blood burning.

We brushed hands... and evey cell awoke.
Body buzzing... Must relax, before I choke.
Heart burning.

Conclusion: Your Love is Fire,
and its these Flames of Love,
that I am consumed by.
They purify me.

There was time my mind was yours,
But my heart is yours regardless,
The beats defined a music sheet and you played me like a harpist.

The score settled like rose petals in the essence of the tarnished
The stems remained like overtures,
And that's where it all started.

You blossomed in the minus key,
Your golden touch was midas
The treasure crept in semi clefts,
The breath I took was harnessed.

I played the jester to your beat
And bowed to you my highness.


You took my crown and held me down
The curtains closed in darkness.