I wonder how long it will take for
you
&
I
to be back in the same spiral again;
both aiming toward the center of the earth--
toward the center of
the bottom of
our selves.

for you were there
& I was here
& though I am not apologetic for our
circumstances,
perhaps you can perceive my
acceptance
for why these things must be.

closure
is such a cliche of a word,
isn't it?
but yet all cliches exist because of a certain
central
truth
(such as how I need you &
you need me &
how we cannot use each other when
we really must use our own
strength
in the early morning sun &
the evening's seeping darkness &
all times in between).

closure-- here it is.
for you at least,
but never,
never,
for me.

so like an unnamed grave marked only by a ghostly white stone
I
disintegrate
without any one ever knowing
what truly happened to me.

but let this
at least
be the last nail in the coffin
of us
for you,
dear one.

I once loved a girl that didn't love me back.

I’m more afraid of losing you than I am of losing myself

To force one to create;
To turn the gears of the mind by force of will
Ironic;
That the source of creativity has become so artificial,
Like plastic flowers in an outdoors garden,
Not wrong,
Not dangerous,
Unsettling;
One of these things is not like the other.
Something is wrong;
This is too familiar,
I have been here before.
Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you my whole life,
Silence is a spirit which haunts me,
Hold my tongue,
Punching my gut,
Every time brave words bloom in my throat,
This banshee screams reality in my wind-beaten face.
She is subdued by a fraternal bond, a weightless chain,
Silence is tamed by the right company,
The demon exorcised from my body,
I am sanctified in brief lucidity,
Clarity, however fleeting still exists,
Despite the holes in your brain,
The ultimate in body modification.
Every ugly duckling is told they’re a swan,
So they seek their kind,
Unable to set roots,
Assured that there is a kindred spirit,
You just have to find them.
You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,
They ugly duckling becomes more shark-like every day,
Unable to stop, a flower constantly about to wither,
With age comes beauty,
The Rhododendron expels an army of stamens,
Male in essence, coloured neon pink,
******* objects of desire for the hungry bee,
Honey and perfume,
Comfort and poison,
The children of flowers,
Opposing in nature,
Twins in function,
Sweetening, attracting, saturating,
Numbing the tongue,
Burning the nose,
So sweet I could *****.
I want more time and you want more attention,
Kind gestures, kind reward,
So sweet that I’m sick.

By paper-lantern light

flames colour a snow crystals dance, beautifully enchanting, to

the distant sound of singing; Joyous songs of celebration, lulling all in revelry. Each note heard

in silent reverence, beneath the skeletal canopy of majestic oak spread. Where from amongst the

damp branches,wise old saucer eyes calls "Ubi? Ubi?", heralding a cacophony of wide-eyed

whispers. This afternoon, sweet twilight guides our paths as we search on ever onward journeys

unknown; Our arms collecting firewood, to fill the empty hearths of others. Unaware of the cold

hands, we are, when there's such warmth in our hearts. We toil within the stillness,  

snow falling softly,and covering the crisp ground.         From deep beneath
        
         the dazzling pure white,                                     tiny hibernating animists   

blink wide from the                            warmth of hidden

 woodland beds.                        Gently,         
   sweep the                   12 droplets
                             of ice from                 all our eyes, Sol,                   
                             as we cough        darkness                                
                     from our      lungs,                       
                       watching the sparkles     of no                                              
                      matter,  floating                  
in the  paper-
            lantern light            
       to scatter across    
this   Solstice   sky,
illuminating our fates,
as cold  snowflake hearts
twinkle like falling stars, unseen,
turning, embracing the return of the Light