In School
In a pool of cliches
I meant to define myself
I meant to stand out without trying
I meant to excel
But without that skill
You simply rebel
Or repel
Laws of attraction
Simple, really
They preach us to learn
But really they meant
"Know how to burn"
Classy, lightly, a flicker
Don't fade out
Last till you're blue
When you're blue
Wait till the burn-out
Don't wet your naive fingers
Even if it takes a million years
That or take an occupation
A job
(More like Job)
Endure your suffering
Put air into a dead corpse
Celebrate Columbus day
Know your atoms
Twenty-six times none is Eight
And it flows and flows
But they don't show you
The importance of rivers
They don't show you
The importance of clouds
They don't show you
The importance of being shrouded
In an aura all your own
They just show you how to blend
Mix of wool an apartheid
Don't blend, just weave
Breathe in, breathe out
That's all you're made to do
Breathe in, breathe out
And be happy to die
Just be happy to die

It’s all right, zombie husband.
I didn’t like the dog.
Or the twins.
Seriously, all they did was cry.
It’s like, “shut up, already”,
You know?

Your smile
tastes of mint smoke.
It’s refreshing
against the taste of my tears
and the drink you gave me
to stop them.
Your eyes
trace their way down
my body
seeing
knowing
touching
every little sweet spot
long forgotten.
Your hands
melt into mine;
a connection revisited.
And for a moment
I see in your gaze
that (love lust longing) we shared.
I blink
and it is gone
in the moonlight
and blinking light
from your clock.
So I close my eyes
and let the smell of tobacco
in your hair
and the smile against my lips
bring me
to a dark connection
I know far too well.
We can be together.
Just one more time.
Just for tonight.

I used to see with a rose tint
A color I found between our lips
The same skin you found me in
I wear this medal without a win

A color I found between our lips
Please sing the song I used to know
I wear this medal without a win
And I will fix the stitch to sew

Please sing the song I used to know
The same skin you found me in
And I will fix the stitch to sew
I used to see with a rose tint

I used to be
a
poet
colouring the page
spitting star studded images
reaching my cold hands out
entwining them with your soul
every word
made up
for what I could not draw
or sing
or create
or see
now who am I?
another poet
swimming in this murky grey water
with thousands of others
swimming about
in everyone's tangled words

and I'm a sort of poet
whose poems
don't even have a proper end---

As the sun sets upon the horizon,

Without poetic justice,

I do not prevail.

My mind troubled,

Obfuscated by the irony,

Of everyday situations.

Purity,

Tarnished.

Joy,

Vexed.

As the sun sets.