We  are  the images on  cold  grey  walls,
clinging  to  that  which  is  long  yet  past.
Meaningless, fruitless  and  hopeless  we  are,
pitiful  shadows  forever  to  last .

Time  exists  where  nothing  else  can …
what  has  become  of  a  race  called  man?
Among  the  ruins  the  wind  will  ever  mourn
and  we  are  the  shadows  so  forlorn.

In the park we walk  .  .  .
Flocks of white birds taking flight,
  .  .  .  Two hearts light as air.

As the leaves fall and take on a new identity
So do we
Brave ourselves for the howling winds
Putting on layers of clothing to protect ourselves from the gloomy months
As the leaves fall and change colors
So do we
Go from vibrant, jovial people
To pallid, poignant people
As the leaves fall and prepare for winter
So do we

I fall in love in the summer
When sheets are thin
And breezes are warm

When our curtains are sheer
And the sun sets over thunderclouds
And our feet caress each other at the end of a trodden dock

I fall in love when nights are short
And time moves sweetly thick, and slow
And our breath tastes hard like liquor

I fall in love off of hot asphalt
And exposed souls

Getting high on parking structures
And men’s fingers in my hair

And
I fall apart in the winter
When we’re sheltered
And evenings come too early

When it’s cold outside
So I burry too deep into myself
And lose lovers like keys

To what,
I’m still not sure

in the scene,
I happen upon
an off-duty
cop
whose leg
is pinned
beneath
a vandalized
carousel
horse.

the kid
I carry
on my back
stirs
in my father’s
sleep
and I’m in
my brother’s
tree

again

dropping
the cigarette
that will miss
my mom.  

I’ve started the cry
that can’t
begin.

A chilled but passionate solution
Bubbly mix with bracing sensation
Dashes of bittersweet fruit in flute
Sends forth your day in joyous pursuit

An inward touch of coy affection
Close to perfect prime of your generation
Afar I lay on your sinuous path
As frivolous lace of vast green swath

Ten megaton and
it hit us head on
and that was the
start of the war.
but it was as before
when the last war was won,
dead on both sides and
both sides taken for rides
on the armaments train.
Someone's got to gain and
it has to be them,
those out of the picture
those who get richer
every time a
bomb drops.

everything feels fun and new.
i mean, i'm in no way a functioning adult
but some sort of weight has been lifted.
i feel good. i am singing - of sorts - again.
i am writing better words
and smiling more.
there are still spaces to be filled
and a few more caverns to explore
but there is no endless void or black hole.
only oil-lit passageways underground
where i will go when i'm low
in the knowledge that i will find my way out.

A good day
Makes for a worse night
A night of being slave
To the powerless hourglass
Full of crisp dry sand
From some far away land  
Where the beaches are clean
And swept twice a day
To maintain there perfection
And nauseating glimmer

While here I am
Staring at it's grains    
Waiting for all hope to fall
And my time to be up
Because I love this moment
love it to pieces
I'm lucky
And if I could stay in it forever
And ever
I would
without the slightest hesitation
But while all I can see
Is this invisible hourglass
Draining the imaginary time
That I have left
I can see the sun rise and set

And I was here before

I used to stare
At the beautiful clocks on the wall
And fell with a bang
As they stopped.