.




dreaming,

she sits by the cogs, turning
fog into mist

in midst of an autumn, caught in
arms of abyss,

in her sleepy frost, where her
winter sits,

where her wilderness clots
in melancholic conflict

hung by the clocks, and rocks,
in bones, and sticks,

an ocean's worth of rot, no
mortal can sip,

in her drowsy gaze, in her
dreamy drift;

she sits in her loss,
lost in her solemn bliss,

screaming.





.

Psyche has moods
Sometime happy, others  gloomy
Psyche  has moods
Sometimes wise,  other times  fool

psyche has moods
Sometimes, I wander
Others, I surrender

Psyche has moods
Sometime melancholic,
Others sanguine
Psyche has moods
sometimes  choleric,
Others phlegmatic

You took me when I was ripe
I didn’t know my innocence would have too be the price

You taste on me so fondly and
My heart use too think of you as someone so lovely
Then our time has come and passed

This isn’t love and I know your affection on me won’t last

You bitten me down to my core, do you really enjoy snacking on things that shouldn’t be yours?

Now that I’m dry, bitten, and trashed
Are gonna find another sweeter fruit that your taste buds haven’t kissed yet?

I'll write for you
and drown you with my words
I'll strip down my affliction
and turn them into poetry

vulnerable and melancholic
my poems seem to be
they are for you
since you'll leave me eventually
—everybody does.
—g.l

Smoke rises from his lit cigarette,
The air heavy with ash ridden breath.
A lighter flash from across the bar
Left as soon as it came

He leaves a lonely figure
And greets the cold hugging his coat.
Under his feet the snow of past
Has turned to water once again

He hails a passing cab
As his feet mourns the snow

what a candy of a song
at times it's short
at times it's long
you see I cherish it a lot
to say the least, it's all one's got
to each his own
of course
with some regrets
and some remorse
but also love
of which one never has enough
and so I sing this song away
every morning
every day
years and months and weeks
unless I'm sick
or struck down by bad fortune
but even so
it finds its way back to this weary soul
and lifts one up
from bottom straight back to the top
oh what a song it is
it's often miss
it's often hit
and I shall only wish to keep it lit
a little longer