as i look through my window
i cannot find his light
he’s nowhere to be seen
i’m all alone tonight

his presence calmed me
silent and serene
his warm yellow shine  
a sight unseen

oh please come back soon
i miss you so much
i’m off to bed now
please stay in touch

I’ve let my finger nails grow,
A direct consequence of my unconscious burdens;
Does the weatherman know, Whether
the solstice will reign in full glory,
Or do I ponder this with my own leather-tanned skin, and unshaven neck,
If my peeling shoulders will feel the curt embrace of an August rainfall.

I don't vacation
in Babylon anymore.
The ticket prices soared
and the trip
almost killed me.
Years of
debauchery weren't
good for the soul.

The only gold I
want now is the
autumn leaves and
the buttery summer corn,
and the shimmer on the
lake at sunset.

I'm getting older and
my heart is stronger.
It beats like a
childs, seeing
green for the first
time.

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your footsteps
echo through the hall

it truly
makes my skin crawl

it makes me anxious,
it makes me sick

and truly,
I don't know what it is

I think
I associate your footsteps
with something bad

something happened
something sad
something, that weighs heavily
on my back

I tried to think
I tried to remember
but I came back empty

empty of memories
empty of meaning
empty of all the things
I should be feeling

so tell me
why your footsteps
makes my skin crawl?

I just want to know
how to deal with it all

My shoes don't fit,
But I put them on.
The laces get undone,
On their own.
Is it's way of telling,
They don't belong here,
Or is it's way of telling me,
To stop fitting in the wrong shoes.

there is a fire hydrant
a few meters away from my car
it screams fire like it saw everything
like a child playing seek with me
and hide in a corner above the clouds
and hid there for a thousand nights
and I scream and scream, but nothing creeps
but the emptiness in the shape
of a frat child's school drawing
locking the suitcases, going to places
but it's like the spring of the coldest
where my eyes hover on your shoes
maybe my autism for I never took that test
But I snap to the pretentious smile I give
as it breaks like crumbling bridges
over dead breeze and dying waters
there is a knife
a few meters away from me
a particular joke I must always make
about knife, and the art of self-worth
a knife so distant once that only the moon
hit her twice a month, her soft and gleaming glow
her unwavering, free ecstasy on a Monday
coming from an angle, so inclined it feels illegal
"but nothing is illegal in love", the knife said
the moon changed its angle, on a Tuesday
and the knife died by cutting himself
there is nothing
a few meters from me

World's on mute, stuck on replay,
A hazy dream where thoughts decay.
Words get caught on a tangled tongue,
Stuck in slow-mo, everything's sprung.

This tangled mess, a constant drag,
Reality's a one-way lag.
Roots keep tripping, memories blur,
Like a glitching screen, all askew.

Flashes of visions, a fractured show,
Lost in the static, nowhere to go.
Excluded, a glitch in the grand design,
An empty shell with a hollow whine.

~
she's thunderstorms.
she's asphodel meadows.

I fall outside of her
into the suburbs of askew,
where she hides behind
happy occident, where she
lives with the afterlife of a man,
but is in love with a scientist.

a jaded thing, she likes
to drop anvils on her
husband's head and blame
her fragile scaffolding,
she wears the wreckage
on her face, it's far easier
than admit her own fallacies.

before the children came along
she was able to pour some
of her own frustrations
into these knotty tussles.

now the midwives have left.
now misadventures in her
own backyard commence.

no hiding place down
the front of her,
the remaining secrets
come from underneath.

but if you trust her
and go along, she knows exactly
where to lay her hands.
~