My unrelenting guardian of the years,
to claw the scales of blindness from my eyes
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

Bankrupted soul, emotional arrears
will send me seeking you in anguished cry,
my unrelenting guardian of the years.

Removing self from lover's touch come near,
avoiding agony of being passed by
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

A draught of venom cloaked as cup that cheers
is snatched away before I drink it dry
by unrelenting guardian of the years.

The flaying of my own back, copious tears,
repeated penances all gone awry
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

When called upon for strength, he will appear;
should I refuse the help, he'll let me lie.
My unrelenting guardian of the years
won't spare the consequences of my fears.

'It'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget.'*


We sit and talk art and beauty, love and fear,
my heart cracking open, and you,
rushing in.

We sit and talk,
play at this deadly game,
ignore the consequences,
shun the inconsistencies. The

words,
words,
words,
they swirl,
and
we slip,
we slip,
we slip.

It's a real cliffhanger.

Hearts on sleeves,
music weaves,
stories come to light.

Secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot.

We sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
Mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through fields of daffodils
under dark skies with rainbows.

(Scene change now)

In dark of night
I squeeze out hope
from my heart.
God ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side,
leaves me bleeding on the floor.

And you,  fool you are,
rush to my aid.
If you're saving me,
who's saving you?

You, with your secret decoder ring
from your box of caramel corn, cracking
my heart, you peel my layers.

Your questions run deep but your feet will run faster, and

I'll fall,
I'll fall,
I'll fall.

Gravity's a real drag;
I've felt it's pull before.

Me, with my third eye see the pan and play.
This show will end leaving us all sitting in our seats
wanting another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.

This ain't Disney.

We'll feel like we've been
ripped,
ripped,
ripped.

No refunds here,
go file your complaint with the man upstairs.

The audience stands, turns to go.

White elephants know there's no silver lining,
no *** of gold.
They threw popcorn at the screen, but you didn't notice.

I always hated white elephants;
I thought you did too.
Who invited them to the show?

We step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause.

Hail falls down on this sunny blue day.

Afraid to touch you, but
I want to catch you in my mouth.

Would you please just go away,
before I end up with lumps
on my head,
in my throat?

My eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail,
this ill fated show.
​

You are not my children,
tender as you are.
You are not my lover,
though you cause my heart to yearn.
You are not my sun,
or my moon,
or my star.

I set you on this rock;
you will not make me burn.

You are simply sticks,
arranged upon the pyre.
You are clever tricks,
though you flaunt my clear desire.
You are not the match,
or the wick,
or the fire.

I set you on this rock;
To see what might transpire.

You will never be a pheasant's egg to be coddled.
You are only this: a calf led to the slaughter.

She perches on the chair,
clink of ice croons in her ear;
a slippery gloss of memory froths her lips.

Here on dark waters
float glimmers of chance
while hope,
that slow gasping fish of dreams
slides near.

She raises her glass,
a spirited salute--
when the lights come on he swims clear.

Washed up, she spits,
and tugs her drink,
swallows scorn in one long gulp:

that bitter brine,
end of the line,
a barb,
stuck in her throat.

She carried them about,
stones in her pockets.
Each one a little secret.

The weight of them
distracting her in conversations.
The bulk of them
effecting her posture.
They would knock
when she would walk.

While she could manage
the slight though ever present
force they exerted
she was perpetually terrified
that one day,
in the midst of some random encounter,
a small hole would
open up
allowing them to tumble out.

They did eventually become too heavy
and the pressure of them
made a space
where
sickness poured in
taking their place.

Stones in the pockets
was not the official diagnosis.
But that's what killed her.
I know
because I watched it.

And I miss her.  
That one woman who loved me
unconditionally.
I need her at times
like now.

I carry no stones of my own
and I am not afraid of holes
but
sometimes
we need the kind of love
that has no strings
like when the other kinds
wish to bury us.

the winds swept me towards the great birch kingdom,
where thousands of kings and queens pirched gloriously upon their timber thrones
before the crackle of a twig snapped by my toe swept them away.

not long until I found myself upon a mountain, in a cave, where I began to whisper gently to the void
and listened back for days as my voice stayed.

when my finger touched still water I watched the ripples dance for years
until all of the oceans were dancing
and they danced their way into the night's sky.

I spin plates on a stick to strike a balance,
But I become a stone that tips the scale.

Now mark the steady ticking of the clock,
How the hand is slower than the I.

The chiming of the bells at the Hour of None is a prayer whispered in my hurried chest:

Of desire,
That road is best travelled as a pilgrim.

Of fulfillment,
There are no shortcuts,

Only meandering paths of slow,
And you.

I grew up named ******
Transformed into dad.
Dragged her down but she doesn't think so


For her buoyant cheeks keep me afloat

How she will wish for such devices as I get to dip over

I shall try and try and pry towards keeping her safe
Yet she will hate me

Keeping her from this would be the worst
She would never go through this point she should dull through
She will never know that I feel every sting
I will never tell her
I will only feel her love
And feel love for her life

I think about you and I every day.
I drink because I know what's to come.
Doing everything for one person.
Even staying with your mother.
Tho you aren't mine to stay.
I choose to hide behind you.
Because you are strong without knowing
As I wish to know one day
Because you are stable and same
Through times you know don't change
When they do
Because your spine is strong enough to climb
Yet supple enough to crumble from our embrace

Hugging you to the ground
Lightening striking through my heart my love.
You won't get to love me like I love you
Nor like how maybe you wish you'd like to.
That's the saddest thing.

I know I will never be enough
But I will always know and tell you that you are more special than your situation.
More than how you feel

Feelings are illusions too.
You beautiful perfect creature are nothing but what you want
Not what I want or she wants or we the collective.
WANT.
There is no want.

There's just you in Your life.

Live.

When I was in the darkest place
she showed up with a flashlight

And when I was so, so cold
she built a small fire

I know
if I were dangling from a tiny branch
poking out of a tall cliff
she would be there with rope
setting up nets underneath
I know this
because she did

Some days I am terribly sure
that not a soul gets me
There she is, though
with pom poms
(one that says *****,
the other vanilla)
cheering

The world
just doesn’t  know what compassion is
She defines it

And I love her
I owe her
And I got rope, a flashlight and some matches
so that one day
I can return the favor

And girl,
no number of wrinkles
could make you less beautiful