On the icy moon,
Tranquil solitude is found,
In a sea of dust.

~ Umi

there's nothing left for me to do,
I'm just a nobody to everybody,
with me they are done & through, already gone & deleted
from their human minds,

like a recording that's gone before rewind,
nothing but their trash,
after it's burned down to ash,
like ashes to dust,
I'm still scattered here & there,
still just making a mess.

Sky is a roof
we can never touch.
Our feet stuck
on the ground
can't get rid off the dust.

Neither can we breath
without drowning
into the air.

Then we can say
every morning we can
scoop up a new sunrise!

Then there is an expiration
date set for each of us.

Gained all that in store
in the world?
But which way
is the way out?
Can anyone find
the exit time
before it comes?

Mother, I feel your pain
Your grief
It's coursing through my veins
As if I must take it away;
It has become my quest
Until this body turns to dust.

Oh, Mother, I am living sores of yours,
Feeling it all
Deep in my core.
Never thought of having a choice
Until I've discovered the voice
Of my own.

Mother, your sadness soaks through my bones
The very marrow of those
Yet through time that flowed
Between then and now
I realised I am owed
To pave the roads
Of my own.

december is the dust dripping from the body
of a closed book, dry and dreamy
like an opening—like the dent
on your doughnut dimple, our lips,
loose from loving, luminous
from our icy irices
igniting;

it is what spills after the storm—
a sweet slice of sky, its silhouette
soft and soothing
like silence.

now, the moon is mounted as a mistletoe
on the tender twig of midnight, now,
our dreams, draped in december dew,
are cold kisses of eternity.

see as december drags the dead
back to breath—our bodies,
bruiseless and born

out of the broken,
wiping afresh in the white,
wet wool of winter.

what else but to scrape soil, trail your thumb, etch a vision onto dust;

what else but to close eyes, dive down dizzying depths, drag limbs back ashore;

what else but to friend the fire, hug the heat, sing the storm to sleep;

what else but to hold your hand, hear your heartbeat, taste the tip of your tongue;

what else but to wipe wounds, shed skin, build nests from broken bones;

what else but to keep breathing.

An abandoned thought,
A restless sigh,
Dust remains,
Where all has gone into nothing,
Deserted, uncared for, it lays there, waiting,
Staying, until it is swept away,
In the course of time,
Carried away,
With a breeze.

~ Umi

These things
These things
What are these things?
How did they come to me?
I fear..

I'm colder than this world
Older than these bones
So familiar with this land
This earth beneath my feet
This energy pulsing in my veins
Reminding me again
I am alive

Beautiful silence
Beautiful pain
Hidden in every corner
In every atom
Lurking unseen

Lost in a life
Full of sin
Dreams
Are a madness
Believing all before you
When nothing makes sense
Leaving you with no defense

Spiraling
Downward
All of the pieces are there
But it's no way to live
If you're only surviving
But still
I picked up my head
I picked up my head...

Every day all is getting a bit colder
As we grow closer
To the day
When we return
To the dust
From whence we came.

- Jay M
May 27th, 2019