Sometimes I feel defeated
by the fact that socks
can make or break my day
How the same socks
worn numerous times before
can suddenly make me feel
Too tense
Too triggered
Too trapped

Uncomfortable socks is an omen
of the bad things to come
if I walk out the front door
Yet when I have a bad socks day
I find the strength to continue
Safe in the knowledge
that when the day ends
I can throw them on the floor
Upon the heaps of ***** laundry
That I'm not in trouble for

the thought of you whispers to me
in my lonesome moments
your stride glides swiftly to me
eyes of earthly-tinged emeralds
fire-soaked whiskers brush upon me
and the slightest rosy sweetness
leaves me yearning for you
all
over
again

Sometimes, such as on days like today
I sit and I mourn for my long-forgotten faith
I miss the certainty of a Most Divine Plan
Those self-assured speeches of a holy man
Assurances he speaks for the Ordained Track
Promises of a Supreme Being who's got my back
On these days when I wish, reminisce and long
I can't help but wonder where it all went so wrong

It's not that I Believe that There Is No God
Or even that I am unsure whether to believe or not
I don't bother questioning if god is real
For there is a bigger issue at play, I feel
When I became faithless, it was just in HIS eyes
"Faithless" I am not; there's just so much to surmise

I have Faith that the sun will warm each new day
I have Faith that these heavy clouds will give rain
I have Faith in the ground solid on which I stand
I have faith; just not Faith in the Words of a Man

See, I have come to accept that I soon will die
More surely, in fact, than the sun that may rise
Any day that sun may not appear
That day of darkness that we so fear
I accept that any moment May advent my end
I accept that there May be a sunrise just round the bend

With my flawed, weak powers of human perception
Dependent as they are on my senses' inception
I cannot Know a god, not many nor One
Just as I cannot Know that tomorrow will come

Maybe it will, and maybe there is
after all,
But truly--
who among us can Know anything
at all?

words swirl in my head
and dance between the lines
flirtatiously

antsy hands tingle

I know the way out
but I want the way through

listless, tongue twist
the litany of love, call and response till death do us
part
standing on a street corner in his head,
'c'mon baby', rubbing legs like a cricket,
recalling playful jabs as he carefully tears them apart-

again and again and again.
the clip- clop of a police horse is the soundtrack to a rapture
hand slips against the condensation,
the thrill of fire and ice, cold burns
the moon reflects in his eyes, lunar purity
in a puddle of stale water.

when I say last year I hit an all time low,
I mean that I spent two hundred and eighty nine days without sunlight,
I’ve never known a rose to grow immersed in eternal night -
auctioned off my heart for the gift of sight,
I wonder how long I’ve lived my life blinded by the rose tinted glass?
false love will have you struggling to distinguish between gold and brass.
I draw out the sequence.
your palms met her flesh,
my reflection in the mirror is reduced to ash.
I feel my heart hit the floor,
blood stains in the carpet - proof that love does not live here anymore
next time just wrap them around my neck,
I get the same hand of cards
out of every single deck.
from love,
suffocating, choking,
that is the only sensation I have come to expect,
you know that better than me,
extinguished every fire set to your trees,
don’t you remember?
she left everything around you to burn,
choked on all the smoke,
still you fixated on all the ember,
if this body was ever not hollow,
I wouldn’t remember.
two hundred and eighty nine days,
I spent treading in the shallow,
moulded my existence out of clay just to fill another persons shadow.