Call me such the liar and fool this is true, give no notice of the kindness and careful actions I have given you; but if still you feel cheated and swindled by my small offense, then I offer up in recompense. That while you sleep and so soundly slumber in your bed, behind your dreams I visit you in your head. A more clever prankster there never was to prey upon your petty needs, only to guide you through your misled deeds. However you may have strayed so far from these your gentle homes, I will have you back before the sun arose. Call to me not before the midnight hour for from your lips my name will hover, and roll along your awaking tongue the name Jack Underhill will be far gone.

Dear love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream;
    It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for phantasy:
Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet
My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it.
Thou art so truth that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths, and fables histories.
Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best
Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest.
As lightning or a taper’s light,
Thine eyes, and not thy noise, waked me;
    Yet I thought thee—
(For thou lov’st truth) an angel at first sight;
But when I saw thou saw’st my heart,
And knew’st my thoughts, beyond an angels art,
When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st when
Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then,
I must confess it could not choose but be
Prophane to think thee anything but thee.

Comming and staying showed thee thee,
But rising makes me doubt, that now
    Thou art not thou.
That Love is weak, where fear’s as strong as he;
’Tis not all spirit pure and brave
If mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honour, have.
Perchance as torches, which must ready be,
Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me,
Thou cam’st to kindle, go’st to come; Then I
Will dream that hope again, but else would die.

he looked at her

the way she laughed

the way she spoke

the way she pouted

the way she danced in the dark

like it was the last time

like the world would have ended

i watched the earth
consume the sun,
a rampant fire blazing within.
the sky turned orange
and pink and peach and purple
and everything in between,
it was like an explosion had gone off
and left the beauty and dust behind,

i eyed the green trees
become dark silhouettes,
painting themselves
against the backdrop of opalescence.
smoke coming from chimneys
took on a dark grey shade
and outlines of houses and rooftops
began to separate the gravel from the welkin.

i adored the sky ablaze
and watched it scorch and blacken
with rage.
it was everything and nothing,
and as angry as it was, it felt peaceful.
and at once, the sky was dead,
and small fragments
of the previous blaze dotted the dark coat above.

it was as if to say,
the world is sleeping,
but our problems are not,
for though the sky is dark
and no longer ablaze,
stars still coat the interstice
to remind us of what is unfinished.

My life
Is like
A mosaic.

Shattered pieces
Fit together,
In hopes
To look
Beautiful.