She saw the sunken ground,
Beneath the flower bed.
Bleeding on the grass,
Emerged her golden head.

He came onto the casket,
Traced the waves of her skin.
Saw curls lurking,
As he rubbed the lipstick in.

Even in death
What soul could truly rest?

Is she forgetting,
he’s just a man.
For if he is the Divine God,
Your soul’s forsaken.

Sometimes they come
Negative thoughts
Invading my brain
Seeping into my psyche
Been holding on so tightly
To something that won’t be
He has become a part of me
He walks inside my being
Yet remains completely free
The prisoner is me

I feel your absence in ways
I could not have anticipated.
Threads pull at limbs.

Who am I?
Who are you, stranger, sneaking through the bush?
Places swapped in imaginings.
Meaningless,
But everything.

And I’ve been drawing again.
And I’ve been watching again.
But everything looks like hate.

Splinter me.
Sever me.
Let me leave.
I cannot grieve.
I cannot find pleasure
Any more than relief.

And only silhouettes really bleed.
But silhouettes cannot bleed.
You cannot replace that absence
With a superficial feed.

What defies defines.
What denies devines.
There are no seeds here.
Nothing to keep you.

There is no soundtrack truer
Than the passively overheard.
Nothing shinier or newer
Than the polished, filtered words.

Vine-whipped, and burned in the sun.
Maybe I wouldn’t slip if I learned to run.
Reflections give a view that’s gathered.
Until agitated, stirred, or lathered.
Frustrations build when disconnected.
Violent, and viscous, yet flat and dejected.

Who would shine through, if not you?
A crazy dream to have come true.
Twinkling in reflected light.
Drown out by passing, passive night.
I miss the freezing cold of flight.

To soar, in freezing cold of night.

Every major endeavour
is somehow impeded
by one's self-created
psychological barrier

I'm smarter
than no one
only this I'll say:
two words I avoid-
they are ' I can't'