out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes ***
writes songs and stories
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the *** is just as good or better.
it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work ...
it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking
listening to the waves ...

I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...
out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another
it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in
the dark.

Darling if you say you love me, I will never leave.
Darkness, all surrounding never ending, consumed me starting
from my very soul, but I had no right to mind it.
My world changed from the moment I have met you, it was
alike a candle which has been lit, emitting gentle, golden, yet
still dim light, becoming warm, bright...dependend of this flame.
The darkness, has no way to lose I thought to myself, as I threw
my mind into the book which I was carefully reading.
After all, it is everywhere, patient and generous,
Just wating for its chances to get to ones soul
Under my feet as I desire to take a walk,
In my food which I must consume once I am feeling hungry,
In the wood, which gentle burns away by a campfire.
But seeing you, I have come to one realisation,
In its greatest strengh, relies its greatest weakness,
After all,  a sole candle is able to make it back off
But dear, love is way more than a candle,
It gave me a whole bright star and made it shine.

~ Umi

I miss you.
That part's pretty obvious.
But there's more to it.
I miss stuff that didn't even happen.
I want to hold you like I never held you.
I want to kiss you.
I want to meet your parents.
I want to do everything.
But I can't.
Because you're gone, and she's here.
I said she was gone, but she's still here.
She's been waiting.
She doesn't know it, but she's here.
She can't take your place, but she's getting close and I can't stop her.
I don't want to.
I want to have a chance with someone.
I want 2 months to be pebbles.
I want to have something worth having.
But I'd never let it be about what I wanted.
Because I'm durable.
I can take whatever you throw at me.
I'm more durable than John Legend when I'm on a bad day.
All of me loves all of you.
And when he "Used to love U" I still do.
I can hit a curve and your edges are so sharp, a cut would be a compliment.
And maybe I should rob somebody.
Hell, I would if you told me to.
But for now, I'll just stay on the end of this rope,  waiting.
So here's where you get to decide.
Pull me up so I can be with you, or cut the cord and let me fall.
Don't worry, I've got a parachute, and she's waiting for me at the bottom.

The wind beats out it's
slow steady song
through this hollow city.
We were told to expect rain.
Half a pack in and still
nothing.
I saw lightning hit water once.
It awed me in ways nothing
has since.The power of nature.
It changed me.
Nothing profound, just a simple
muted difference in me.
You never noticed.

The buildings act like instruments,
played like expert jazz musicians.
I sit here in the window,
as the smoke makes it's lazy
circles around my hand.
It could almost be playful
as the music of the wind reaches
yet another crescendo of
awesome power.

I remember bruised nose and scraped
knees,bee stings and Popsicle sticks.
I remember when snow was not
another in an ever growing list
of enemies.

I focus on the trash cans and bits of
paper. They dance in the music
like manic asylum residents.
I have to concentrate on something
or I'll be alone with a declining pack
and these kiss shaped scars.

We were told to expect rain.
I fell asleep waiting for it.
The ashtray was left overflowing
and the wind never let up.
Like a lullaby it rocked me gently
as my mind wandered.
I missed the rain.

I saw lightning strike water once.
It could change me again.

Through the glass of wine as she pears waiting for him passed the moment right as she endured ,an eye on the door an eye on the glass for may he commeth at last as the grains of the sand fall a single crystal rolled down her cheek as reminded of the quote he spoke may he live not taken by fate we shall meet again

This waiting game is slow and painful and killing me!

Within the space of mind you dwell
wating, watching for the slightest bit of light
you watch, quietly lurking , antisapaiting fun
eyes pierceing the darkness
teeth as sharp as a knife
you see it in the far distance

You wait quietly antisipating...
it moves closer,closer
inching it's way toward the light
NO! block the light, block the monster!

He moves so quickly now
sliding like a snake, slithering on the floor of my mind
ready to attack, wating to attack
Fear rises
washing away the light
Defeat washes over me
He's won once again
The darkness once again
pervails.......
MONSTER

I stood in a line of
              collected thoughts.
Each waiting to be served.


The line like a funeral procession,
                       slow motivation.
The moments that collect at the end
              packaged like meaning something.

But everyday I slumber in these wastes
                                                     of my life,
Creation is more than this, just walk away..

without
a sound, you slide down,
poetic dreaming
screaming loudly.
I was so wrong

there is a seperation

a pain of seperation

such as a seperation

that only lovers specialise in

where the prevention of thought

is like a fortress overrun

where trampling terrains of concern

stampede upon the praire of the mind

transforming it into a soft savanna

of wating engagements

that murmer with comforing enchantments

lays upon such pain of seperation

as that of a perforated scar

seared across the heart

bringing tickles of soft warm tears

to the cheeks

the happist time becomes

a chasm only conquerd

by that gulping unification

of embrace

where soft burning lips

meet in that unknown

but express language

of clasped reunion

it is that pain, that awful pain

that only lovers know