For a moment, everything lingered. Words
lay suspended in the evening air between
us and we sat together. The silence
cradled us and we had nothing except
enjoyment - the enjoyment of experiencing
one another - yet my eyes fell to the
floor as I realised that this was a mere
dream, being half the world away from you.

Death played hopscotch he threw his
touch then his feet grasped upon the
souls of mortal man and there hearts
were stopped twelve steps of death.

He lifted his cloak so to see where
to jump, one jump, two jump third
jump and three drop dead like fallen
trees they fall in the breeze.

He could play this all day the pebble each
one a heart, he lifts it up jolting in his
bony fingers and then looks as it beat
within his palm then crumbles it to dust.

Then anguish and pain the daughter of
death that help him in his role in the world
"father let us once again play our game,
He smiles and skips on broken spines.

Mother please, As decay walks over asking
what is this scream not of mortal breath?
Its daddy he is ruining our game,
off the children's play thing I say.

Death wallows as his fun is ended, and
once again death now cant end their  
suffering as his children once again
Linger there misery on human kind.

"My husband I no you meant well,
But children must learn from mistakes.
Now come with me and let us rest in
the earth and linger in corruptions embrace.

Four years ago today you walked into my life.
Four years ago today, I had never known love.
Four years ago today, I had never known the fear of losing someone.
Four years ago today, I had never known the fear of staying with someone.
Four years ago today, I had never known the fear of being touched.
Four years ago today, I had never known you'd never let me say no.
Four years ago today, I had never known the nightmare of love.
Four years ago today, I was innocent.
Four years later, you showed me how to doubt.
Four years later and I still panic when asked about you.
Four years later, you're still haunting me.
Four years later and you still call my name.
Four years later and I'm still so scared.
Four years of this.
Four years.

A manifestation of thought is like a
ghost you can sense, but is it real??

I love slow,
not snailish,
random acts,
but where one is
relieved, revealed

in their yawn and
stretching of limbs,
a little scratch
in the ribs,
stomach

like an animal
absently fluffing
up fur...
a spread of charm,
wayward hair

strand curled
curled to a spiral,
deep guttural sigh
of a woman asleep
over her lush hair

or walking quietly
under the trees
trance-gazing
a stray cotton seed,
helicoptering dry leaf,

squirrel run...
I love slow,
gentle sidestep
dance to it,
revolve of

lissome waist to music,
liquid spread
in a hot pan,
still breath
between kisses

sea waves licking
up the feet,
slithering afar,
time nibbling
away...

The door never relinquished its grip,
baneful whispers knocked endlessly
non where heard but some screamed.

Clamouring upon senses worth, edging
them towards deliriums shade. Wishing
to open lingering to be again rebirthed.

But wood inscribed knots hidden where
eyes did not linger, few could see what it
forcibly entombed, kept forever concealed.

There are many bushes that linger outside
its view, these are the souls that dared to
knock once now obscured.

It will keep knocking on the veil, waiting
for it true intent now cunningly revealed. 
Who will be its bearer, who will keep it entombed.

*"Can you hear the door knocking will you
seek its shrouded truths,

you didn't even cared to know
my sadden soul was dying
twisted in crumbling emotions
drowning me in such sorrow
the dark shadows continue to
stain my heart black with pain
the stench of worry lingers as
the tightening barbwire of stress
clawed through my mind crevices
cutting away my desire to dream leaving behind deep scars that still holds hurt
I haven't lost complete control of my heart now it's covered with fading perfume of sadness