I look at you and see my undoing,
a picture I paint from a memory.
It looks like you know what you're doing,
deceiving, as many looks tend to be

Flowers will always sing beautifully,
fearless and blooming in throes of a fall,
a lost language, ringing out truthfully
yours is the song I hear loudest of all

Devil-may-care, a lamb to the slaughter,
awaken the beast from a dreamless sleep.
Your petals fall to greet the still water,
a gentle sigh breaking through to the deep.

I hear your call and I feel so alive
I touch you and fall through an empty sky

I. The False Mirror

that's how it starts
dull and creeping.
shadows in the back of your mind.
reassuring you that the smoke
from their furious fire
is only temporary.
"Look away
lest the Light claim your eyes!".
the thing with shadows is
the more you look away
the further in
they close.
as flames roar
the only sound you hear
is a soothing song
of dominion.
until your world
is a vision
of black alabaster
where you can't tell the difference
between shadow and caster.


II. Portrait of An Owner

we take the medicine
that consumes us.
leaks through the cracks
in our spine.
dripping
we make moves in the dark.
tripping
over useless pieces
of used-to-be heart.
they say
the road less travelled
doesn't go our way.
they say
many have been led astray.
so we wait
in fear.
with bated breath
for the next hit
to keep us in place.


III. a bête noire

we were promised planes
but given straw wings
tethered to the shore.
they remind us
we can fly
but not to aim too high
or stray
too close to the light.
that we might see
what Icarus seen.
living isn't being
without a doubt
he would tell us
he didn't fly high enough.
so, for the spectacle
we'll gladly burn
alive.
belonging to none
severing ties.
that's how endings begin
bright and sprawling.

cynic
pedant
seer
believer

royal
peasant
meat
and cleaver

solicitor
enquirer
teacher
denier

conspirator
healer
pr­eacher
and liar

lover
fighter
bestower
detractor

reader
writer
audience
an­d actor

after Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart"

my life is your life
it was never mine.
omission of submission
leaves no way out.
what's an offer of forgiveness
to a promise of betrayal?
a lost shepherd leading the blind.
under a loaded sky
someone sang
"there is a light and it never goes out"
a marvellous truth that
has taken my heart.
there is light somewhere
but not in my eyes.
heaven can wait.
the gods will have to delight
in themselves
a little longer.

I'll make the beat
    you bring a little melody
We'll find the words
    fit in to it perfectly

All we could need
    written in a reverie
Nightingale songs
    inscribed inside memories

Time is the tale
    of pen's wish, eternally
Yet none remains
    time is uncertainty

Ours is the ail
    of branching eternity
Unhear our names
    to learn who we're meant to be