Four walls; a pair of cupped hands.
Jaundiced like an open eye; an open cove
Prescribing solitude to those whom solitude cannot withstand,
And I choose this cold corner which is furthest from the door,
To be where I am not, before
Your proclivities become my own, I write. I write,
My window holds my breath and frosts the world,
The moon in his amber gown, dressed in chatoyance and spite,
Godspeed; dark, dark shroud for naked skies!
Six floors, walls, doors from you am I.

I couldn't write when the sun peered in,
Her inquiry evangelizing the specks of time left upon the glass -
I've heard it all before; God's shining face leaves none unloved (unseen)
but his spotlight has no starlet; so who can see me up here?
We can't see from windows, dear.
I'd live and sing for the cloudless hall
The nursery of misanthropists crawling on the grey cobblestone
And the lilt of the wind on the rose; through squares nice and small -
The peevish moth shudders at the sight of itself obscuring the day through the glass.
It seems we're always in the way.

We see things not as they appear to be,
But as we want them to appear to us,
That’s why; we see the bond and not the betrayal,
We remember the chemistry and not the catastrophe,
We remember the temptation and not the tears,
We remember the happiness and not the heartbreak,
We remember the smiles and not the scars,
We remember their eyes melting us,
But not their egos crushing us,
We remember the touch and not the torture.

An error as my screen fades to darkness,
My life around me disappears.
But proof of my existence is harnessed
In the organs laid in my ears.
My drums are interesting instruments
They anchor to more than my brain
I would rather hear sound so dissonant
Than spectate a silent frame.

Rejoice! in my perspective so dreary,
For my consciousness has been saved.
Language and music my theory,
In life how love is portrayed.

why won't someone tell me
what they know
or is it all a show
I can't really tell
the spasms
touches of sarcasm
the flakes of fakes
like a self conscious woman
I follow you
blindly
i follow
but now i wallow
as your actions hit me
like a heart attack
maybe I am just being dramatic
It's a panic
shaken bones
my mind has grown
It's just a panic
a panic.

I struck the match,
Brought to life a most beautiful blossom of amber and gold,
Clinging innocently to the tiny wooden stick
That she was dependant on.
I gave her life;
I gave her a home;
She twirled elegantly, radiantly, upon her wick.

A pillar of marble,
Marble that wept at her touch.
Slowly crumbled,
Until a mere puddle was left.
And when my dancer dipped her pointed toe
into the glistering remains of her lifeline,
She was extinguished.

Collapsing gracefully, suddenly, mid-pirouette.
Smiling like joy was the only emotion she knew.
And then gone.
The smile still on her face as she faded to wisps of monochrome smoke.
She was left to drown on her own stage.

I came back to a darkened room,
My unspoken love turned to dust at the absence of her light.
I was left with nothing but a silvery pool of lost life.
My dancer was dancing no more. My lovely golden woman,
reduced to a colourless ghost,
that had melted into the cold wintry air.

She is my warmth no more. I sit in the callous night’s chill alone.
She is my light in the abyss no more.
I am lost, staggering like one cursed with blindness.
She is my dancer no more.

You who crawl
Who can still feel fascination of the world
The hard taste of wood and cotton wool
Your mouth smiling for the first time
You're so young, so young

You who gains a thought
And thinks it alone
The candyfloss politics you understand
Your hands clenching into first fists
You're still young, still young

You who heaves
Who can still feel burning passion
That incense of obsession
Taking your mind seeing new things
You're young, you're young

You who lost at last
Who can still feel the pain of betrayal
The rot of blind hopelessnes
Letting your brain seep in chemicals
You're not old, you're not old

You who crackles in the fire
Splits lines like old wood
You who gazes out the window more than when you were young
When your eyes film over and lose talk
You've just grown, only just grown

You who looks at pictures
Who never finds nothing new
Who splits hairs as much as infinitives
Sighing at what hope you used to be
You're no longer young, no longer young

A feeling is gone, A theory remains
And what is to come is less still
What happened before was in hope for the life
That came but lost youth's hazy thrill
Lost

You’re a queen,
with a beautiful flower crown -
A queen who could not see my love,
and so she had it buried in the ground.
I wish you would see it,
but for as long it lies in my hands
It will sink through my fingers,
and be forgotten quickly in sand.
All of this because you do not see the wonders I see in you.
And it’s so difficult, love, to keep it from you,
because you’re a wonder, from your sparkling eyes to your curling toes. You’re the source of my dreams and my love lusting woes.
There is something so beautiful in you,
as if the wind just guides you to and through-
the gusts just pull us together, me and you.
I wish you could see it, we’re meant to be, but that’s your only fault: You cannot see.

You cannot see the way the angels have blessed you, but you do see how the bitter detest you.
You cannot see those who respect you,
but you listen to those who wish to neglect you.
You cannot see those who love and have confessed to, but you still long for those who have left you.
You cannot see me, who only wishes to protect you, but you are so blind that you must still guess who.
You could not see me and I became the one who was forced to forget you.

But the love will stay with me forever,
until the calendars reach the date: never.
It is a love I will take with me as I am buried into the ground,
the ground from which will sprout your beautiful flower crown.

i am
legally blind
blind like the blindness of love
when you're driving in the summer,
windows down,
breathlessly scream-singing
the warm air almost stinging
and him
sitting next to you
his smile so bright it
blinds you to reality
and he puts his hand on your thigh
and you don't think about
the germs
or any logistics
you're just
thinking about him
and what you could be
and you don't want the summer to end
but you always remember
that it always
has to end

and you're blind in that car
unable to see the future
the end
anything but him
and the road
racing towards you and then
flying away
and the trees
chasing your car
without slowing
or stopping
and you're blind about the past
ignoring everything telling you
this won't work out either
because it's gone
puffing out the exhaust pipe
draining like the antifreeze leak
you've never bothered to fix

i am legally blind
i can't always see everything
and i realize that
but
when i'm with him
i can see everything
so clearly
i forget to remember
i can't even
see