summer became a blue
pool, the sky swept away
all its dark streams,
the tide wept at our happiness
and we could not bear to be apart.

I rode through the forests of sorrow ,
Where I felt there is no tomorrow ,

The one you love has left ,
They always leave us with no clue ,
So we think that we are deft ,
But we're turning blue ,

And the friends who betrayed,  
Lied to you in your face,  
They said " we'll stay" but never stayed,  
Oh they will find someone to replace,  

But we'll forgive them all,
No one is perfect,  
If they built a wall,
We will break it,  

And at last of the forests of sorrow,  
There is the sun with its glow,  
Don't be hopeless,
Maybe you were careless,  

At the end of the forests of sorrow ,
There is always a brighter tomorrow .
You'll see :)

Broken glass reflects me
Every time I see a mirror it's impossible to believe
My expectations float upon an unpredictable sea
When will I ever have something just for me

Don't know what's to blame
Can't seem to see the beauty in the universe that I like to say I believe in
When it's clouded by nihilism and insecurities
I think I believe in love but I don't think it believes in me

And they'll ask you how you are
But they only expect one answer
They're not around at night
They don't know my cancer

I play paradox trivia at the break of dawn
Ask myself questions unaswerably
What is this light on my doorstep
What is this eclipse in my mind
What is there to find in a blind spot
Thought my dreams would give me some answer
But I just start over
Hope is a four leaf clover

Watching movies with the volume low it led to an episode
My life gets foggy when I begin to realize it's more like a TV show
And I'm stuck in between scenes, static grows
Who needs music to tell you you're alone
When you're stuck inside your head, it's the only night you've ever known

And they'll ask you how you are
But they only expect one answer
They're not around at night
They don't know my cancer
"I'm good."

not heartbreak
not solitude
not hurt
left those things behind

forgiven a few things, others come back in a rush and haunt me
read a few more things, they make me weaker, while they help pass the time
passing the time is one of the best things

developing a gut, a love of food

drinking too much, but romancing just the same, even better

not a character, a person, walks down the street, notices the restaurants, wants to sit at the nicer ones

wants to be a court reporter, a teacher, maybe

sits on the couch and watches sitcoms

cooks pasta, cooks breakfast

tells the iCloud to go away, remind me later

late nights rarer, comfortable with lazy body

grown out the beard, again

not heartbreak
not solitude
not hurt

somebody

so what is boring?  what is normal?  what is comfort?


it’s fine, just fine

and the poetry is fine, too

and reading is easier

I write my lines in a corner of this dimly lit bar,
unnoticed.
People float around me like fireflies,
little sparks in the darkness
unaware of their own illumination.
I take every ember
and stoke a fire that holds me over,
for the night.
I don't need permission,
to perpetuate my own existence.
I trade what little I know freely.
Only hoping for inspiration,
one more poem,
one more line,
just one more word.
If you drop it I'll pick it up,
no need to feel indebted.
For every word I leave I know,
the world is better than when I met it.