Autumn has a way
Of slowly creeping in
Though summer days
Are far from being over.
There is that turning point
Wearing a jacket off season
Cozying up around the fire
When the sky has become so low.
Seasons are already changing
Not ever having set a date
It is a dawdling process
But no one wishes to notice.
               What a strange sensation
Like opening a door
That was never really closed
The beginning of something
That should not have even started again.

As a trick, I taught my parrot,
to say "I love you" to my girl,
the parrot took it quite in earnest,
started to believe, it's in love with her!

he visits emotions a tourist sampling foreign dishes
savouring this one neglecting another
not returning to ones that don't fit his wishes

returns to his life of no end and no start
then looks forward not back
without content
heart

Sometimes I feel that my life has been lived in stages. Each moment is as separate as dead birds kept in rusty cages. Scattered at the bottom where they fell to remain wasted and it’s all been written down to create a book, with blank pages. I have never seen behind your masks and may never see your true faces, but I know who you all are, you’re the same person from different places. We all want to believe we’re different, but regardless of our gender or our races, we have all endured the same; the strife, the struggle and the rages. Add the love and laughter and the scars collected over ages and still all that we’ll have left from this life is a book filled with empty pages.

Your dark salmon lips form the word love
As mine, stained red with lipstick and lust,
trace your body's outline.

You place your hands in my hair
and your fingers, so familiar,
feel as though they could be strands of hair
growing out of my scalp.

I place my hands in your hair,
and those dark salmon lips part,
revealing a softly crooked pattern
that breathes love into my heartless body.

And I fight the urge to kiss you,
because one thousand kisses
will never be quite as rewarding
as staring at your smile.