Rocks, all around me
    Rocks, under my feet
Walking through the day
As I suffer the heat

Water, I need some
    Water, there is none
Thirsty and dry
Dried by the sun

Love, just as much
    Love, my life’s crutch
There is no more
I miss your - touch


I hung my legs off a porch to do some reading. There were parts that were high and low, but the ground was out of reach. I sat with my legs dangling for an hour. When it came to my attention, I had to ask myself — why had I chosen the spot closest to the ground? For the ground was out of reach.

my skin is cracked
my stomach an empty sea
my mouth is dry
so sand pours out
my hands are fragile
my eyes tired of searching
my lungs have collapsed
from breathing in
the deadly scorching air
in this desert dry of love

the things we do to keep
ourselves alive and living well
are things i do not forté in
and cannot truly grasp
why eat when i taste nothing
but clay and iron and death
why drink when the water is
barren on my tongue
nothing is as it should be
in this desert dry of love

exhausted, i shrivel away
no rain of thoughts to fuel
on the hot and burning days
the downpour never comes
so nothing grows on the terrain
there is only a sandstorm
it curls around
swirling
eroding
in this desert dry of love

this desert
dry dry desert
heats me to the core
and makes me into nothing
i am but a mound of ugly
common clay once more
easily shattered
fractured
destroyed
in this desert dry of love

It's dry
It's pale yellow
It's devastating
It's hot and
It's a wicked summer

With drawing all energy
With it's dry, dusty winds
With all vegetation turning pale and wilted

The birds are silent
They are somewhere not visible
Hiding in the little shadows and shades

The trees are still
The plants are withering
The road-side bush wilted and dry

The lips are dry
The skin is rough
The throat is burning...

How long is this going to last
Looking at the sky,
For some clouds which are scanty

Let that summer rain come
And change this wicked summer
Into a soothing experience ..

Till then...

It's dry
It's pale yellow
It's devastating
It's hot and
It's a wicked summer

Dry your tears with the rain.

Woke up
cuddling a bottle
it was no longer subtle

My love for this potation
has become an addiction
and no longer a mental transition

Body shaking
asking for more
sobriety scared me
it might be a bore  

Woke up
cuddling a bottle
.... no more
"at least I'll remember
this one" she says

I will give you a list houses
that once used to be my home
and addresses that are the only memory
that has not been blurred
or manipulated by my mind.
If you ever want to find me,
go there.


You will see the line of trees that
framed my sunrise
and almost dry riversbeds of
round white stones, where
I slipped once (or more).
You will see the duststorms,
and the heavy rains
I stood in.
You will see the the intersections,
I could never quite cross.
But all this you see,
is not me.



If you want to find the ‘me’,
‘me’ that I do not know of,
that I cannot give you,
go there.
And look for windows I sat by.
Look for the cold floor I lied on.
Sit there and think of a girl
who never felt quite like a person,
who could look at what lay ahead
and know
that neither the path, nor the journey was hers.
Who only wanted a room flooded with
gentle light of drowning sun,
and songs that could make her sadness beautiful.

I push with all my might,
But my *******'s too tight.
I'm up all night,
Trying to conquer this fight.
I keep thinking it's going to be all right,
Stuck in a long plight.
Through my sight,
I see the brown and blue reunite.
Kerplunk.