Rules, regulation and form, allows for the greatest accord.
A ruse, my elation, at the shore with the bravest of swords.
Let me explain, poetry should be like a storm, a war of the words.
But Treat every one like a worm: your encouraging your curse.
You can't move forward without inertia at your back.
It's just the set of rules that allow Us to teach that.
So yes, the form and regulations enable the greatest of sets.
But unless you use them you will just be a sadist at best.

May I be the song
To which you drive down the highway
When it's snowing
And dark and cold
And all those wonderful things?
May I be the quiet exhale
When you think back to when
You were a child
And I was your favourite word
Running your mouth around my smile
And grinning like you were all teeth
When you heard my voice in your head?
May I be the old carpet
That makes your toes warm
When you go for a walk
In your living room
And think about those times
Those wonderful times?
But may I please also be
Sleeping beside you
When you go back to bed
After the cup of tea you didn't need
But wanted?
May I be
The form you smile at
When you think
Of nothing at all?
Or is that too much to ask?

This is what heartbreak looks like.

It is the soliloquies you wrote to him at midnight while crying

It is the formality a smile and the absence of warmth

It is the nausea and the ***** because this mornings breakfast just didn't have the heart to stay with you

He didn't either

This is what heartbreak sounds like.

Silence
Breaking
Static

This is what heartbreak feels like.

The burn of your concerned friends eyes into your back

The burn of the shame tinging your cheeks red

This is what heartbreak is.

You
Me
But not us

Never us

Awoke to masked and yellow light of morning
Six days of joy preceded shades of holly
You crept away as my heart was warming
And left with me this wayward taste of folly
Which tongue and teeth did press on those wet lips
Who had ne'er known nor spoke but songs in prose
Now sang of curves that in soft light eclipsed
When feeding mouth, mine eyes and soul arose
I still can see the memory of your face
Those shining giant eyes and softest skin
Transport me to the realm of your embrace
Where then we lived as if life just begins
But if somehow love took me whilst I slept
These days I wait and wonder if I dreamt

lines,
the curves of your neck, your eyelashes that flutter.
color,
the brown in your eyes, the barely there pink of your chapped lips.
texture,
the bumps on your cheeks, the smoothness of your hands.
space,
the width of your shoulders, the space between your eyebrows.
shape,
the way your shadow looks as the spotlight's on you.


van gogh, da vinci, munch, and michelangelo,
they'd all be ashamed,
for they could never make art in the form of you.

Demons are born in
the venn diagrams of who
you are vs. who
you want to be.

Eclipsing the hell
portals is the only way
to seal the gate to
mental illness.

the only way to
lasso your planetary
pie charts is to self
actualize.

I burned in a tempest
When I met you, by the sea
Nine wild months ago
I give life to misery
Now, as I love you no more

Eyes left wide, for
Now I've seen
The vanguard of my fevered dreams and

Jungle cats pace in my brain.
Paws alight, their
Claws aflame

And sinews
Incandescent white--
Seamless, green, their glowing eyes

Constellate where shadows heap.
Enough! My skull,
The marrow creaks...

What hells we weave
Through. Bitter dreams,
Awake, asleep or caught between.

My fingers close on nothing more
Or less than what was there before,

But what is now was meant to be.
This heart will starve in reverie.

So to the next, whichever path
This river takes, what's past is past,

What's next is next... but now is mine--
My gift to me, all bound in twine

And velvet drape. The water's still.
Shall I leap? I think I will.