The fog loses purchase
on the window
and, dying, wicks
ashy vapor's slick scatter
to gated green-brown.
Morning comes again
in fractioned crooks
of snow declining
into fat eggs of rain.
The fog is a colossus,
ravels with dragging step,
before retiring itself
above oak branchlets.  
The sun wraps away
in gray, as if stolen.  
Nativity of cloud.
I'm telling you this:
everything is possible.

why is it
when the sky is dark, heavy
holding onto every ounce
of moisture it can
just before its fingers
are too exhausted to hold on anymore

when the air is thick, dense
with the weight of the world
resting itself on our chests
and burdening our shoulders
underneath its pressure
that I feel lighter?

my head feels clear
and everything inside of me
which once seemed a mystery
is suddenly unveiled
in a beautiful, crystalline way

perhaps it’s because
when I look inward
at my own atmosphere
I see the fog
I see the clouds

a constant waiting game
to open the floodgates
that reside under my eyelashes
and cleanse my core
of all the things
weighing me down

grey misty haze
why pray for better days?
silver hues
lick moist air
in the beautiful world we share
puddles painted on the floor
revealing your unfocused stare
grey misty haze
tickling noses blue
should be enough
for you

sometimes its comforting, the dark
its like a veil
its like a fog
it surrounds you, and although its cold in a weird way its,
familiar
like its always there,
but sometimes you get too comfortable
fall in too deep
and feel safe where you shouldn't
its hard to get out when it feels right
like its where you belong
where you deserve to be,
in the dark
in the fog
in the cold
and after the light is always too bright,
the air too warm
its too perfect,
and you were right
because you know what comes next
it always comes next,
the darkness
so why not accept it?
why not stay?
since it always comes back,
the light always dims
the warmth always leaves,
it gets smothered by the wind and the rain
and now the matches are wet
so
you cannot relight it,
when all you need is a spark but
you cant get one,
but why not wait for them to dry
because the rain never seems to stop
it just keeping going
washing away everything
making you blank,
making you empty,
it blends the days together
when there is no light, no way to tell
how long its been
or
how much longer
and then one day
it stops
and the light is back,
the warmth fills you up until you overflow,
but your so scared to lose it again you don't even care,
it's almost scary how much you missed it,
but even in the most perfect moments
its always there
making you wonder
how long will it last
and its hard to enjoy it when you know
one day the
darkness
always comes back
so the rain starts, the cold comes and
what's the point of putting in the energy
when it will always fade, will always dim
because the cold days get more
and more
and more
frequent,
until you cant remember the warmth
until you don't even want it
because,
the cold becomes comfortable
and that's all we want,
right?
to be comfortable
to feel safe
to feel something
to feel the cold is better than to feel nothing,
right?
at least the cold reminds you you're alive,
that you still are here
until one day you aren't
because the darkness gets us all
and in a weird way its almost
nice,
to know one day we will all have the same fate,
no matter how hard we try
no matter what
the darkness always wins
so,
why not find comfort in it?
the darkness.

I was scared at first.
The voice started
drifting in slowly.
It crept in and dimmed
the shining lights that
kept me bright and shiny.
Such as the morning fog
consumes the mountains
was the voice in my mind.
I was scared at first,
but no longer.
The dark thoughts
are constant and persistent
but no longer worry me.
It is hard to find a light
when I am trapped by
all these shadows.
What scares me now
is not the voice itself
but is the fact that
I have fallen in love with it.

don't know what to feel
hate you; love you
lost in the confusion

I get what I want
yet I'm left
heartBroken
when you leave

dynamic is changing
you no longer chase me,
was it only ever a hope
for More?

you hurt me
but I hurt me too
for trusting so
easily

It was last night
that the white monster
sneaked unseen
across the quiet country.

Silently hovering
above the fields
swallowing all
what came on it's path

Over the vast fields
I noticed that he silently
but surely did his job
covering all in mist

Only the tallest trees
were lucky enough
to tower above his
growing power.

Early morning sun
already warming up
trying to contain evil

Through the shreds
she evaporated the mist
with pale golden rays

The idyllic picture
brought melancholy
to my heart.

If only everything
was so easy too
overcome.

I wear autumn
Upon my shoulders
Some say I hold fire
My paws dark as coal
And when I run
I am the fog
Early morning mist
Disappearing into the trees
I laugh haunting the shadows
To be mistaken for ghosts
That is autumn--those spirits
And they run their fingers
Through my coat