intrigue

      w
            r
                  a
            p
      s­

me around your finger.

keeps me hanging to every word,

        name

                story

                        ­place

                                that slips out of your mouth.

trapped in

- - hugs - -

that i can only imagine but not feel.

gazing and searching for

          s t a r s

in your eyes

Like pitch dark chocolate
Sunday nights are fi-i-ne

But always leave you wishing
For less bitterness

Let’s pretend Sundays last forever
and spend hours drowsing in the sun.
Let stress slowly fade, like a passing parade
and our cares will seem light as feathers.

I hear clouds still collage on blue canvas,
and deciduous leaves turned bright colors
we’ll picnic, we’ll laugh, and lay in the grass
and this Sunday will outshine all the others.

A little while earlier
There were
cumulus
clouds


I do savour
the colour
of water
the pitter-patter
of heavy shower
the flavour
of wet air.

A slow skull, but steady
as four pull by in unison,
the river readies me for another day
with current confidences
quietly spoken

In comparison, the busy chat
of small brown birds seems rude,
but cheek and charm
forgive a lot
if not all

It’s to the bees I’ll look
for industry this Sunday,
though if their lead will be followed
is yet to be decided

I've spent an eternity staring at my own reflection
Trying to find out exactly what made me get here
and I've only ever found out one thing
That my life is absolutely pointless
but I also have a feeling that if I spend another eternity here
I will realize something else entirely

Because I've been having these dreams lately
these vivid, disgusting dreams
in which I know exactly the answer to the question I ask myself
And in these dreams, I don't seem the way I imagine myself to be
when I find out the answer
When I find out the answer
I imagine myself joyful
because why else would I spend eternities
trying to find out why I'm here
if if would not grant me a lifetime of joy?

I seem to be walking quietly around my childhood home
looking at my hands as they rot in front of me
And I'm walking heavily, you see
like I'm being chained to the earth
and I would have to spend yet another eternity
just walking around my neighborhood

I just keep walking until my feet turns into soil
And I turn into soil

I know now why I can't keep searching for something
I will never find