the fishhook plunges -
catches a big one, adrift;
the tension scales up.

delicate as snowfall brushing your cheek
and wind flowing through on an open-topped peak
but when you go home, when you go home
the warmth washes it all away.

when it captures you, raptures and
seizes your soul, you feel it take hold and
suddenly
you cannot recall
what once was cold and no longer is
but still, a silent strange feeling
lingers
until you are left with your tremors, your
trembling—
the imprint, the mark of a melody.

saw this cute girl the other day…
while smoking a cigarette at my balcony:
i was hovering over the pathway  
she’d eventually cross,
like an apparition watching over
her resplendent ignorance.

she eventually did -
the cigarette, having not been ****** on
for a while, drooped like a limp ****
between my fingers;
i flicked the bud:
the ashes drifted away with the wind,
like confetti -
in the same direction she walked off
below -
as i watched from above.

brain signals for blood:
a freight of the past revs to life;
generational curses come on board the ride
with their hefty baggage,
and roughneck IDs;

the nervous conductor lets them on -
offers them a ticket, and sighs -
‘this too shall pass.’

a fistful of wishes
is all i have:
if i let go, i’m afraid
they’ll wither away,
like dandelion petals
on the back of a rescue dog;
if i hold on too long,
I’m afraid -
they’ll crumble -
like my illusions of being.

the fist gets tighter;
and i’m still waiting -
for the punchline.

i can feel the weight,
on my tongue -
of a heart so heavy,
and a mind so young;
i cannot say -
why i went this way;
i do not know, how to
get off the causeway:

on one end, there’re facts;
though verified, and true -
on the other end, lie feelings,
i never really knew -
i had buried so deep,
i failed to see them through;
the facts - do not change,
but the feelings - they do.

i promised not to rely too much
on one way, or the other;
now i’m stuck, biding my time,
reflecting on shallow waters:
i look, long and hard, and see -
the feelings start to resurface;
but in fact, i see -
a herring’s carcass - floating -
so still, and perfect.

a shadow streaks across my face -
i brace myself for, just in case -
i feel it looming - heinously close;
in fact, it’s an eagle;
i step aside - clear the way:  
the eagle tucks its wings
for a nosedive;
it wants the herring -
dead or alive:
it takes what it wants,
leaves nothing behind -
neither facts, nor feelings;
only ripples of lies.

prone to narcolepsy;
a second thought, like -
a can of pepsi.
sold my peace for
a moment’s notice;
for the panic that utters -
‘you better not blow this!’

i sulk, i cry, i moan… it rains -
the clouds pull closer to
the gravity of my pain;
the birds find shelter at
the neighbour’s windowpane -
they leave me to dry in a room -
terrified, and insane.

i can feel the bed
warming up to my shape;
there’s a stain on the pillow
that reeks of sour grapes -
i try to rub it off,
but give in to my human make:
i curse the neighbour’s birds -
through a ****
on the moss-green drapes.

i hope it’s worth it:
all the trials, and the errors.
i long for a night,
devoid of terror -
so i may sing for a while,
with nothing to lose;
‘to be, or not to be’ -
left to me - to choose.

The tower penetrates
the puffy pink
clouds, and the
horizon squirts
sweet rain.
My face gets
sticky.
She is the sky.

mud in rainwater
bubbles with irreverence;
a dog steps on it.

a bed of roses;
ruffled polyester, scorned:
unlucky petals.