I am spent, exhausted and lying face-down in defeat.
I can not find the strength to carry on.
My breath is weak and my arms have pulled me across this desert
until all that remains is but two bloodied stumps.
My mouth is dry,
my thirst colossal.
My eyes are vacant and clouded,
my mind is elsewhere...
-
You,
dear.
You have the power to sate my appetite
and quench my thirst.
Even if only for a while…
The elixir of life draped upon your lips
has the power of resurrection,
from my baking grave
I could rise a new.
7 feet tall
with the strength of a bear.

N.H.

We can all admit to taking comfort where we can find it,
No one should ever be shunned for merely seeking comfort.
After all it’s a far cry greater than the alternative.
And no one should ever feel bad for hiding from that.
I would always tell them,
-
"Tomorrow we can go our separate ways, I don’t mind at all.
I need only borrow your company for the night,
and I’ve only mine to lend.
But if you feel that golden fire,
be sure to let me know."
-
And in the flickering dawn when we are but half awake,
the early light bellows inwards to explore the room.
Now a quiet place… although not long before,
an electric storm had raged between these hills and valleys.
-
I go through dozens of them,
'comforts'.
But the more I do… the further away I feel
from the real comfort I am trying to find.

N.H.

Some day… I’ll awake every morning to her, glowing.
She’ll be waiting in the kitchen
dancing with the aroma of hot coffee and toast.
Every night I’ll return home to her anticipating my arrival
with a longing kiss.
I’ll be her grizzled war veteran with scars of the body and mind.
She’ll be my adoring wife,
tending to wounds in the dead of night.
I’ll protect her,
provide for her
and live for her.
And she’ll soothe my mind for a lifetime
with the brittle tenderness only a woman can teach.

N.H.

I can’t sleep… I need solitude to function.
Without enough solitude I tend to become too attached, grounded even.
This is unacceptable, as a born adventurer.
A lonesome wanderer who prefers to float,
unguided and untethered.
But even then we are forever searching for that golden, breathless, moment.
That fleeting moment in which you find your missing piece.
The piece that is, that slots comfortably into the puzzle of your life.
And comfortably,
completes it.

N.H.

Her hair is dark and her eyes are glowing,
like light bouncing back at me from a panthers tapetum,
a hungry carnivore.
-
I asked what she wanted from me
“Your soul” she replied.
"I would if I could” I thought.
But I knew a soul couldn't be given away so easily,
it is not bought and sold like a mundane possession.
Instead a soul is lent, borrowed or stolen from it’s owner
as tiny little pieces,
fragmentation of a whole.
-
Particulars of life essence
experience caught between breaths
like the soup of oblivion between stars.

N.H.

What once was warm and welcome
Is now but distant cold and silent death.
But the setting of a friendships sun
Not quite as yet a souls dying breath.
-
Up in arms and marching forward
There is no need for anyone of us to be alone tonight
Who'd have known that brotherhood pivoted upon speech untoward
And who'd have known that some love, to kiss through embrace of fight.
-
From cradles and cots
When were we supposed to learn
That parking lots and graveside plots
Were our only future to discern.
And just like all of those bedroom eyes
friendship itself also often dies.

N.H.