Dark floats out into the silence
Crashing on the banks of Prometheus's wings
Opening a velvet-silk curtain.
To a fabric of shadowed stars
Cloudy fingers sew it clean
While invisible hands stitch pearls back in.
A ghost flits on the hallway stair
Reaching for the last shafts of sun
Tumbling off a silent dream
Blind as black with a lullaby hum
Filling the gaps in an empty line
Somewhere between dusk and dawn.

If we could only see
beyond the curtain of uncertainty
then we would surely be
omnipotent.

My words aren't  graceful or eloquent
I've never been a good writer
And everything I want to say sounds inadequate
I can never find the right words to say
I could write volumes about you
But everything just comes out as a cliche
So I'll just listen to a love song
Because everyone's better at saying what I think
It's not unusual that you leave me tongue tied with no response
And everytime I try to string letters in a coherent  thought
I just get your name
Only your name

One day these chains will break
One day I'm going to take
One day
at a time.
And one day I will be free
like the raging of the sea
and on that day
I'll surely see
what these chains
have kept from me.

Odd boxes,
Patch the room.
Small plates of food
Half eaten, dusted,
With leftover crumbs and papers.
The phone never calls
And shades are drawn for days
Only opening for small, dropping lights
That move in the eves.

I can
Not look at all the photographs I took
Of us
Even though I want to,
Even though they lie
Close to me
With my unmade bed, on the floor
Always falling,
But never to sleep, without you,
Empty.

Bright moon, perfect, full,
Her *******, unbound in starlight,
Heavens outnumbered.

Pessimists are good lenders -
because they know
I’ll never return what I borrow
and it’s not worth trying to get
me to return anything

Pessimists are honest
because they tell me I’m horrid
and worthless and have no talent –
whereas my wife tells me lies about how
unique and fantastic I am
and how I’m destined
for greatness and fame
the same lies my parents and teachers
and all the sugary people in my life
told me to believe in
and so brought me to grief and megalomania–
better a pessimist than incorrigible liars

Pessimists let me do what I want:
jump the queue, rob them in daylight
steal their cars and take what I like -
because they say, with a helpless shrug:
“That’s human nature – especially people of his kind!”

Pessimists tell me the world will end tomorrow
that I’m destined for hell and I’ll never come to good –
hey, that allows me reason never to try
enjoy life for the moment
and just cruise along and let everybody else
die of stress and work-addiction

*Pessimists I love
for they validate everything I do ;
truly, they were made for me,
for they make my every wrong right…bless ‘em pessimists

so much pain
in the heart's
broken treasure:

so much rain
in the night's
silent azure,

silvery mirrors
scream only tears;
eyes forbid, it mends

lonely lips
with voicelss words
and sudden ends,

bittersweet memories
of once somber past
left ashes in the chest,

your absence hurts
more than anything,
but then all is lost