In the beginning
There was nothing,
Nothing but the minute possibility
For life to spring into reality

From that potential I -
Yet a sapling - grew.
All beamed with freshness
All was green, lush and new

Seasons changed,
And I with them.
Fragments of my primordial self
Began to wither at the hem.

Being so young
I clung fervently
To these parts of me
Instead of setting them free

But once I pruned them away
Like the shrivelled branches of a grapevine
What came back
Was stronger and more bountiful than before

let’s live suddenly without thinking

under honest trees,
                        a stream
does.the brain of cleverly-crinkling
-water pursues the angry dream
of the shore. By midnight,
                                a moon
scratches the skin of the organised hills

an edged nothing begins to prune

let’s live like the light that kills
and let’s as silence,
                            because Whirl’s after all:
(after me)love,and after you.
I occasionally feel vague how
vague idon’t know tenuous Now-
spears and The Then-arrows making do
our mouths something red,something tall

A fiery depth within me consumes everything in sight.
Like an inferno burning across a busy street
Without any prejudice, it devours all that’s pure
And all that’s unchaste alike.

These ferocious flames smother and choke out
Even the tiniest morsel of our love until nothing is left.

I’ve lit a fire; one that I thought would make us sizzle and smoke with sheer ecstasy
But ignited rage instead.

I’ve blazed a trail; one that I thought would bring me closer to you
But has only led to destruction.

And long after I’ve gone, my footsteps continue to spit and crackle
These glowing embers will lick at your feet.
My only hope is that you are strong enough to follow,
Even when they turn crimson.

Perhaps then, out of the ashes of our past,
Something new can arise.

Rusty, rickety limbs of mine
Rattle along the yellow brick road
A way to relinquish heavy burdens
Do they seek

The first weighty sack I bear
A mystical maiden has within
One who hides what the morrow will bring
Oh, couldn’t I tip-toe and take a peek?

The second hefty bag, however
Is in fact as light as a feather
Though fooled be not by its lack in substance!
For its mighty grip continues to tether me along
The path of the golden brick road

This particular bag in question
Has a greying man in its possession
One who is very familiar to me
One who knocks at the door of memory
And shows me what has come before

The last bulky piece of luggage
Has naught within its confines
Nothing but a glaring emptiness
Which tells the story of a vacant space
Where my tick-tock ticker ought to be

Thus here I am
Creaking and croaking
Along this treasured trail
With my tin-can body

On my way to the emerald city
In hopes to find a remedy
For the calamity
Known as coeur brisé