so what if i died right there,
mouth wide open,
killed by the number of rejections my body has had to suffer through,
mine first and then the rest,
a grief made out of pebbles and rocks and other sharp objects.

what if i gave up, right now,
body crumpled in a knot
of all the hate it has received over the years,
yours first and then
the one i started throwing at it too.

there is only so much time one can save before the ticking of the clock gets too much
to keep walking in dry lands.
show me the ****** water
let me drown in it,
I should be the king of me.

one time i dreamt i was a boy and i haven't really stopped since.
the dream followed me around all day, as if i wasn't meant to live anyway.
dream of mine, can you stop ?
i know that you are beautiful,
i see your truth and your lessons,
the way your hands look like mine but can hold a lot more of the world in them,
i love you, i truly do,
but i am the only one.
dream i dreamt, i beg you to stop,
because maybe i will never reach you,
and that hurts me way more than you do.

One step - two stepping me,
Swirling around me in a spiral,
And I twirl,
And orbit in a cycle,
Gaining momentum,
I shine bright
As I try to catch up to your speed
And you run me down!
When did you become so sinister?

Never fixed in a fixture,
So I never got the whole picture,
Because you're constantly on the move.
So move!

Don't hold your breath
In fear that you'll never breathe again
When the difference between
Reality and a projection
Is the ink in the pen and
The lines in a book
And even then,
You cannot catch up to the speed of His
Handwriting.

Finished before you even started,
Cycle after cycle
I am reminded.

You used to go by another name
AMELIA
Now you're somebody new, and your name is
NIKOLAI

When i was with you
My heart was at W.   A.    R.  
Questions and screams and bloodshed
Now you have my friend
I just hope you treat him right
You made out with him in the park
But did you really feel?
He doesnt deserve
To feel what i felt
When you had my heartstrings in your hands

The sky transitions from yellow to orange,
From orange to red, and red to dusk.
Her snowy hair and diamond skin
Render its final sparkle before the sun sleeps.
Fallen royalty, she is.
I met her at the crossroads
On a path leading somewhere, and to nowhere.
We shared the moment of anguish.
“Your majesty,” I say
But her gentle yet worn hands cover my words.
“Shh,” her eyes tell me.
No interest in words of the past,
No desire to venture towards the future, no.
Instead we stand in silence
Allowing the burden of hope to settle in.
The sadness behind her beauty is daunting.
She has known love before,
But never felt the warmth of being in it.
Her tears are figurative, for I know the look.
My hand searches for hers and
We watch the darkness swallow the sun.

“I’ll be dead by morning, oh the night is young.
I’ll be dead by morning, my final song is sung.”

The Gardener moves  
a plant suddenly.
The plant does not know  
where it will go,  
knowing only home  
familiar place  
with friends all around  
close and touching  
unaware  
they are too close  
to grow well.
The new place    
is open, spacious  
with old friends  
of long ago.
Friends at home  
in grief conclude  
that he had died.

I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly that night.
And even more sorry to know that you had the shock
of finding my ’not wanted on the voyage’ body.
The useless carcass I left behind.
That shouldn’t happen to anyone,
to find your lifeless partner by your side…
That’s how you’d see it anyway.

But me? I’m off now into the wide blue yonder,
never to return. Not as you knew me anyway.
These are the rules I’m afraid.
Apparently some people do come back.
****** Spiritualists & Clairvoyants… They make us all,
up here - seem like part timers.
Not that I wouldn’t… But it’s complicated.

There’s a kind of apprenticeship,
a protocol to follow…There are still rules
even in death. There has to be a trade off.
No pain… no anguish…
And, you can just dip in and out of your old
family’s life - PAs… Personal Appearances.
That’s what 'Head Office' calls ‘em

Pacifies the loved ones that you are settled.
In the dying mode of things that is.
Really what you’re doing… as a soul,
is waiting for a suitable donor body
then you're born into a new family!
That's the way it goes!

To end on a lighter note… Kind of makes you wonder
why there aren’t more child prodigies around…
Maybe only the smartest ones make it back! Who knows?

All that knowledge gone to waste… Just saying!

I wander our old lives, I take the train I always took to see you, I pass the pancake place we never went because it was always too busy at brunch time,
and the teriyaki place we went instead that was surprisingly good considering it's emptiness.

I see the Kia dealership I waited in front of, not knowing you were waiting for me a block away on a charming main street.

I see the Mexican treats place where we got deliciously odd flavored paletas, and the pirate golf where we ate mediocre pizza and giggled at cheesy glow-in-the-dark pirates.

But you are not here. You do not greet me at the transit center.

While I revisit old memories, you are exploring our future. You are walking streets we may walk together. Perhaps you are passing restaurants that will become our favorites, a park where a momentous decision will be made, the locations of disappointments and joys
yet to come.

Despite the traffic and obvious signs of habitation surrounding me, this place is a ghost town to me.
It's not for me anymore.

My present is a limbo between nostalgia and anticipation. My future is with you. I'll join you soon.

I heard that time seems to warp in airports and stations
because our brains don’t see them as real places,
only temporary passages,
marked by their impermanence.
Inside their walls, reality is in transition,
the way dreams fade out into hazy mornings.

In this drowsiness, I am transported.

Outside the window
emerald hills and dusky clouds
glittering with gold and silver
tumble behind with alarming speed
as if propelled into motion by
the strongest of forces
and concrete blocks scratch the sky
held too high by thousands of suits
and i wonder if it hurts to run
bearing such heaviness on their shoulders
but when one falls a newer one comes
with more energy and faster feet
and they run and run and run
as if trying to escape —
but from what, and to where?

I keep projecting forwards.
My body starts to ache.

I am still in transit.

From my carriage I wonder again,
Will they arrive before me?