​I have this watch that every hour produces a beep,
making me count every hour I'm losing sleep,

Because no matter how hard no rest i can reap,
not knowing how you are or hearing from you make my skin creep,

No matter what because you've manage to every pore seep,
utterly from under me my very being you sweep,

And I know my words by now seem very cheap,
but they along my being are yours to keep.

Like a gentle and beautiful rose sprung out of the soil

pure and innocent like the first snow nothing it can spoil

but yet jagged and thorned defensively, a true nature's toil


Spreading up towards the sky for the feeble sunlight

closing up every night when the cold comes oh so tight

but seems so untouched and pure like without plight


Love is like a rose having it's thorns but yet it's temptation

many fall fools to the beautiful and pure creation

but few are willing to withstand when it brings damnation


Love isn't just beautiful pedals or ever so green thorns

false love you fall a fool for and can't handle to grab the horns

true love is when you with pride wear that crown of thorns


True love is when you're not afraid of petty thorns, you grab them and hold on until you bleed out and prove that you are worth feeling love.

I wasn't the one who ****** up, right?
I wasn't the one who was the blight

Listen, for a short while you shook my hand
But in honesty the memories are just bland

And I'm not the one who was the fool
You were the one who changed out of the blue

I won't trust you again I'll get better at choosing
So I don't have to leave my heart with bruising

You're not the tenant here anymore
I think I have put you on permanent ignore

And believe me I won't hold a grudge
So don't go around telling the next one I was the one to budge

Please don't call, don't write, don't visit
Go on with your life but don't twist it, into something it isn't

Don't even ask in ten years how I've been
Because this is the final ******* fin

I'm waiting by my log fire while the hours fly by,

while the stars during countless nights fly in a spry,

I'm waiting for a woman from routes afar -

the one putting my doubts and fears on par.


I imagined a wandering snowy flower

and dreamed of a tremulous, mocking laughter,

I hoped I would see my beloved come this hour,

through woods, across moors a snowy night so sought after.


Happily, I wanted my dream to hands bear

through the brush over there where my cabin stands mere;

and raising a joyful shout to the lady:

Welcome you, without you, everything has been so hazy!


I'm waiting by my kiln hours while suffering

while the woods singing and the skies go.

I'm waiting for a wanderer from routes far to show -

my beloved, the love who about I am stuttering.

Like morning dew set like a duvet over the frail grass

mist laying thick but yet frail and thin like glass


stars still glooming on Gaea's black arch far above

pines resting deep until dawn calm thereof


the silence only broken by a mourning dove

not breaking, being of the serenity one of


only at times as these I can feel at bay

my own doubts can not even make me sway


for once I feel whole...

The cape of autumn sweeps over once more
rain and the cold through our bodies bore

Come and warm your bones with me once more
draw circles on my skin while we listen to it pour

I just want to see your chest heave up and down once more
you were the only one that put up with the snore

Just sit down and talk to me at least once more
can you at least try to not make my heart less sore

Can't you try again and fall in love with me once more
because you were the only one that I will really adore

My life and soul has always been like an overcrowded subway station,

everyone rushing to run away from being struck by my own damnation,


their faces getting blurred, I can’t recognize anyone anymore,

only thing I see clearly is my life from my hands pour,


But who am I to judge? I would do the same if I were them,

perhaps that is where my problems really stem,


I see my issues and my faults, my every wrong step,

but I do nothing but blame it on that I haven’t slept,


those who stay I push away, sooner or later,

so for my own lonely abyss I am the sole creator,

​It's quite funny because time so fast have elapsed,
yet you seemed to crawl under my skin and to my spine attach,

it's like watching a fixed dog fight so it costs a life,
but now I'm to old to cut the pain away with a knife,

I just want to end up on some warm tropical beach,
where I don't have to handle this beef,

wedged under my ribs something is frozen,
because I really thought you were the chosen.

Just the other day I was out in the woods where I used to play around as a kid, the rocks and small mounts where I would on wet and slippery moss skid, but that was years ago by now all the trees had gotten rid, laying about in masses and twigs and branches just spread out like a battlefield, god forbid.

The old pond where when there were rough winters and the ice were thick enough we would compete who furthest slid, where thick brush and large tree trunks we could see who best hid, to think that all that glee and all that childish joy I just put a lid, worrying now over how my credit balance does on the grid, how much on the dream house I should bid.

It's a strange feeling growing up and wishing you were older and when you get old you wish that you were young and still had that chip on your shoulder, now carrying doubts and fears on your shoulders like a boulder, wishing that you were not the one being the stakeholder, but I suppose it's all in the eternal eyes of the beholder, but god I wish I never got older.

It's funny how I've always written about hardships and love,
yet only one really fit me like a glove,

Both always take more from me than I take and always end up with hurt,
yet I always throw myself into both like a spurt,

I don't know what wicked god always seem to bless and ****,
perhaps it's my destiny just to go out in a bam,

For once control over my destiny I want to assert,
my trigger finger is always alert,

White birch sprawled with scars and cracks
roots barely piercing through the ground frozen rock solid
drifts of white powdery snow laying meters thick in stacks
naked twisted branches standing quite squalid

dead to the surface but holding so much potential
come warmth and the sun everything quickly changes
it looks barren but like all things it is sequential
dead frozen husks always has many unread pages

attention rarely payed to that which seems lifeless
fruits not plucked when they're deemed not mature or spoiled
no one spends time waiting for the shade when it's leafless
care shan't be given when it's crooked and coiled

flocking comes birds and those who fruits want to pluck
when rays causes everything to come oh so quickly to life
fall and winter come no one stays to test their luck
who wants to stay when there are times of strife

but perhaps it is suppose to be a cruel theatre
no one wants to stand on the stage of life when there are no light on up there