I gave you away tonight.
All that’s left is to coolly gaze at the moon.
Such serene grace, she sates my lust.
I trust Nature to take care of me;
she takes me straight to the cusp.

The wind gusts which fills me up.
I gasp.
A tall cup of reality hits me.

You're gonna ****.

When I’m sure you’re in his clutch
I grasp for the moon.
Of course, this golden goddess slips through my fingers.
Not foreign but still far away.
I look on shyly while the moon comforts me.
Love is so fickle.
Those familiar feelings have come too soon.
I retreat to my respite.
Even at night, light trickles in.
I refuse to fight over how beautiful things begin.

The rain has been filling up my spiritual well,
well it's better than being empty.

I saw another to share myself
but it was bait to trap and tempt me.
My heart has snapped in so many places
you gaze on and just see the spaces.

I relent; go be content.

Go seek another then.
I told you I was bleak and broken,
happiness is beyond my ken.
So blind myself, the wrong words were spoken.
I'll stick to my diligent pen.
All I seem to share is pain
so I cry by myself to help the rain.

This ink bleeds
words of betrayal from a lacerated mind.
My fountain heart pumps more imagination.
My pen has an inspiration unkind.
No fruit to be had
yet I hold the rind.
I'd like to find love
but I couldn't find time.

Devastation ravages a tight-knotted soul.
Create room for another.
Make space for a lover.
How far will I fall down that rabbit hole?
The nature of my yearning is conflicted.
A golden road of good intentions
has led down a path convicted.
Followed by all my bad contentions
Winds of Fortune continually shifted.

You see the siren but not the rocks.
A skeleton key but found no locks.

Isolation is seen from the weak to kings.
Desolation leaves no crowns nor rings.

Rickity-tickity-clak. Onomatopoeia for a bygone age.
Soon the distinct, sometimes irritating/sometimes soothing signals
of a box sailing along a track will be stuck in the past.
A vintage sound.

Dreaming cat beside me
teaching ease.

Desire burns through
the clothing of my civility
as easily the fumbled ember from my cigarette.

Hunger hurts. I have hunger pains.
Last night in a dream I murdered my mother.
What to do with tenacious voracity?
Uncalm, I wait. Breathing.