The solo road takes hold. I don't know where it goes, but where it goes I go.
A midnight’s drive under a sky full of clouds, blocking the moonlight.
Only the glimpse of a shimmering star guides my way, but to what I do not know.
A night of indifference, just going where this winding road takes me, but
I can barely see that shining star through clouds of hesitation.
The road is a one lane highway to a destination unknown
the fog is so dense it is like a layer of blankets used to hide the fears of a child in the dark.
At this point I wonder if it can hide my fears as well.
Do I even want to hide from these fears at all or should I stand up to the inevitable?
My engine’s sputtering, stalling, my car’s running out of gas and I feel like I just might crash.
I put my foot to the gas and hope that I wont fly through the glass and end up with my car smashed, because this car is my only way off this **** road in the first place.
I see no headlights coming my way even though I pray that one day I will see a light at the end of this godforsaken road but the day isn't today.
Some days I pray that I will lay on the road face down
with a trail of my essence turning the road red with release
but other days I carry on like it was my job to mindlessly keep both of my hands on the steering wheel and hope that at the end of this road, there’s an exit sign,
and that all I need’s a little more time.
Because night after night, my hands grip the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white as the fog that clouds my vision day after day.
My sighs echo down this ever growing street, every twist and turn feels like another reason
to unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door because
I’m going 85 in a 50 and I can’t even see my own headlights on the road
my vision is blurred and my mind is as foggy as the road I drive on.
Every now and again I wonder what the point is
I can barely remember the day I started driving, it was so long ago
and I pray for the day when I can wash this fog away in rain,
that I’ll find an exit and take it.

Notice given, but not consoled;
The trembling of the soul.

Occurring at the helm,
Of the notion of the self.

I am dizzied in the frenzy,
A coursing without entry.

One morning I felt a thought
moving ahead of where I could see
collecting energy from my heart
it became so particular about me

that it fought its way over the sticks and stones
which fell into broken pieces wherever it went
I wondered what it held with single mindedness
so purposefully to make it struggle to the front

I followed where it led
it would not wait for me
it knew more than my mind could
it knew about where I wanted to go

but when I called it gave no answer
I couldn't stop it
I couldn't hold it back while I dithered
on and on it went

on a path I could only wonder
as though it had destiny all worked out

a sweet song called from deep in the forest
so joyful a bird it broke my heart in two
and part of me ran to find its nest
but it needed no path as I should have known
and after a rest
off it flew

I retraced my steps back to the forked place
at that moment the thought was gone
though I found a piece of black lace
caught on a thorn

it dissolved in my hand when I held it up to the light
leaving powdery graphite on my finger tips
which had the forgotten taste of sea spray at night
when the tip of my tongue touched it

I heard the whisper of kisses from long ago
and then I looked down in silence
alone and lost - too late I knew
abandoned to my thoughtlessness

If love is an artform
We were the artists
A turkey is done
An artist is finished
Final like chloroform
That is, not very
But I am done with you
Am I really done
Short answer: no

The long answer is
I'll never be done
Not with you nor
With my art
I'll always drift
Back to you but the
Thing is you'll just
Drift right along

So no, done is not
The word for
You and I for
You are done
With me but I am
Finished with you

This morning I sat contemplating the wrinkled sheets of
my night of restless slumber-
I thought of the possibility behind contacting you and being
denied or sitting here and believing in the multi-verse theory.

When I was younger I took comfort in the thought of different
worlds which equate to multiple plausible outcomes.
I thought that if it rained here,
out there, another me would enjoy a sunshine bliss.
And so, by that logic, there is a universe in which you answer
positively, negatively,
one which we never met
and another which we are together from the beginning.
If so, does that mean this universe is the one of regret?

I am staring at my undone bed fully aware it won't make itself,
but I can't help and ponder that in another universe things once
broken put themselves together.
However, of action and inaction,
of to be and not to be;
this world demands and answer.
Thus this morning I make my bed quite early and wait for a reaction.

Your cheek rested on my chest light
pressing the silence bright for a moment
in your dark porch feelings had weight
but I was reluctant to detach to speculate
about where we were and what we held
too secure to need to share talk at all
like the black cat blending into the explored
our world still unbound by word patrolled walls

the street lamp flickered with temptation
asking elemental questions on decisions
reason on or off proving only a distraction
illuminating your attractions from a distance

above us a curtain stirred
up against an open window
lulled by slight rain cloud
blurring the moon to slow
cuddle in love with a dream
seen sweetly on half show
to only a lonely lane
and me in the light kiss
you gave with all that's pure
from a girly whirly place
full of pink hats and allure
making the darkness shake
when I saw the look in your eyes
sure with what I couldn't mistake
as yet told only in storybook ways

I almost dared to try and speak
but you felt the twinkle of stars too
shyness fluttering your lashes
and passion escaped and flew
skies beyond intensity to catch
respite in what little sleep it could
before getting bedded by an au revoir
which l foolishly leapt into turning round
pulling up a collar against the late hour
leaving you a wave to hide my two minds
I notice you pull your curtains together

cold sheets made bearable
when you phoned
to see I was safe
to hear your voice
saved me from strife
and though not face to face
we spoke of what in our lives
was finally in place
behind your curtain of love

my fingers slid down the natural gradient
stretching the fabric all the more sensitive
felt as a soft moan might pad on a sheet
intent on some scheme or hunt secretive

Waste your care
We all lie in parallel lines
And one step over
Can fray the strongest ties

We all break
No one suffers indefinitely
Vices sink
The strongest voices in the sea

Without love
I’ve withered apart
And watched my former self depart

The ginger boy just could not  touch.
For long
he'd been away.
He wasn't sure if to return.
Or if stay
in far display
.
It hurt him much that he did dine
to ignore
such place
where time
and space
where people meet and spirits lift
and only two can sail the drift,
the tide of
friendship.


It made no sense his
versed up mess
but he could not
      think
         of anything best
he could not put
his soul to rest
even if there was no test
even though the patience lives
even if the doubting gives
even if he cannot rhyme
every sentence
every line
all he wants to do is give up his apology.


To remind that all was genuine
to ensure that love divine
the ginger did not **** things up
just was turned
against
by pain and time
they took away his freedom
imprisoned him in his own mind
so when he fell to sorrow
and to longing
for the old times
for his good friend
for the new words
hesitation reigned
and won


All the moments he did try
wishing from his lips to say
lingering his fingers over keys
just type it-- "hey"
what consumed him was this
pain
dramatic and possibly in vain
wanting not to burden bare
a friend so far
and out of hair
a friend unaware.



So he gifted his apology.
And his Promise to return.
His word was only certainty
but when ? no-one could learn.
He hoped to not attain bad feelings.
He hoped to not regret.
But whatever happens, happens
There is hope for this boy yet.