knew fullness and warmth
like midnight comes, remember
spring's first bloom wanders

such high miles from his son
with that head of sawed off strawberry blonde

still, you'll dance in empty places
that sarabande til you sweat

nothing between you and the better air
but those feet will have to move

I want so much,
I could do so much,
but I just keep tearing myself apart

slam my head on the plate
rest my neck in the national razor
wait for the hand to strike,
gavel to give way

hoist myself
onto the rain-wet
splintering edged wood
of the lucarne
let the air break my fall,
close my eyes until I'm gone


but I am still here


going on


and on


and on


Good, gracious God
shut my mouth and send me off to something better

I remember your eyes the most.
It's so cliche. The eyes being the window to the soul,
eyes showing what you try to hide,
eyes are
what often give people away when they lie
you technically never lied to me.

but it almost makes me even more heart wrenchingly distressed when I come to the realization that
that was because you never made me any deep promises to begin with.
which, would have been sweeter
I already know, the pain more bitter, in the end,
But I think that I would hurt
for you.

I know I would
, because I've done it before.
and you know it too, Because we both were...into it.
I remember sitting in the Driver's seat kissing you, feeling so good to enjoy kissing someone again, feeling their hair, the feeling of lips to lips, lips to your neck and
nipping
around the collar bones

you looked at me like I was real.
and by that, I mean when we made
and
held eye contact,
I simply adored the assertiveness
I loved looking at
you.

sometimes,
in the grey mattered
shredded dawn
when the sky is wrecking havoc on these poor, addicted, hungry, castaway *******
it will sound crazy.

It really
will
I swear it to you

But I wonder if because I was so perpetually infatuated with your
entire
thing

maybe we somehow share telepathic thoughts,
like twins,
and you can tell that I'm thinking about you.

It's raining.

I'm not poor,
I plead the fifth as far as addicted goes
hungry?
this is a poem, I guess I'm hungry for.... the thrill of being attracted and enthralled with another human soul?
wow.

Anyway....
It's raining.
I wish you'd text me. I wish I'd hear from you. I wish things were,
different.

You touched a part of me that I don't think I can ever scrub off.
and what I'm hungry for, is more of that.
And I know you'd know what I mean.

God.
I'm so helpless.

how do I even put words to this?
Take the concepts, stitch them out of the sand into fateful constellations
I just want to touch someone, I'm so sick of words.

Write me a song, make me sweet music
Wrapped round my heart so I never lose it
May the words resonate like old friends of mine
The music remind me of sweet summer wine
The song celebrate all the things that we do
Re-create loving memories of you
Will the chords harmonise, strike the right note
Will I want to sing, will it burst from my throat
Like a waterfall tumbling over the ground
Lilting and splashing the music around
A song you gave me when we were together
And when it is written, will you and me be
Singing our love song forever and ever

Critics
were all grateful
the show "A Braying ***"
was not renewed for a second
season.