I do not wish to dream,
For dreams are illusionary life,
Peopled with phantoms of the living
Reflecting our awakened mind's
Fears, lusts, hopes.
Vanity flavours the subconscious.

There is no rest here.

When I close my eyes I pray for darkness.
I wish to escape into the black,
Silk tendrils of the lost tickle my fancy,
Easing my ever chattering mind
Into micro deaths of sweet silence.
I do not exist,
Neither do you,
Nothing.
It is here that I find comfort.

Solace in the forgetting.

If I can ignore you,
then
I don't need you?

You're the reason I believe in ghosts
I try to convince myself that I'm going mad
when I see your pale face against the morning sunrise
when I see your brown hair
the flowers in it are still as vibrant as before
when I stand stagnant and look at myself in the mirror
seeing nothing about myself you could have loved
feeling my collarbone -- the last place you kissed
I touch it tenderly, as if I could break it
and I try endlessly to search for answers
that I almost get lost in thought
about your pink lips and brown eyes
But I remember your body
like the L-train map
I could never forget
the feel of your thigh
the curve of your spine
I remember the scent of your blood
You thought of your body as a haunted house
and there was nothing you could do to escape it
how your skin turned purple at the touch
and how I got drunk one night and cried
thanking every ounce of blood within you for continuing to run
even though you tried so desperately to stop it in its tracks
The first time we met
you swallowed me soul
and I never asked for it back
I tried for months
to drown myself in my own tears
but you still haunt my heart
I lie in bed and I can see your silhouette
outlined next to my fragile, shivering body
still craving your warmth
sometimes I hear your moans that haunted me
even when we were still together
I close my eyes and pretend that the
moon shining through my window
is your pale, glowing, glorious face

I read him one of my poems
He complemented my mechanics
And although part of me laughed
Wondering how he heard me breathe the commas
Heard my spelling bee winner's letter placement
Still
The notion stuck
Steadfast
Push-pinned in my memory
In the neglected space where kind gestures live
I told him how I appreciated it
I should've told him
Boy no no
You don't understand
My mechanics need fixing
No not my grammar boy
I should've told him to volunteer
Sweet boy
I know hands are easier to work with than words
Touch me with both
Shhhh sweet boy
Fix me with your good nature
Let it wash over me
Wash away my grime
You needn't a good speaking voice
But a good intention
Warming arms
To thaw me
Couldn't hurt
But sweet boy
Too bad
We all grow sick of licorice
And I broke you
Like the mantelpiece momma told me not to play around
I broke you
For a less sweet boy
With a politician tongue
And words soaked in muddy motives
I broke you
Hardened you
Into a less sweet boy
With a polititia- err
Salesman tongue
And words soaked in muddy motives
I left you
Gone with the wind
You were the Rett
In the search for my Ashley
But he broke me
Like the soldiers countenance heading to combat
He left me
Wondering
Where all the sweet boys could have gone

Just been out in my garden for a cigarette
Stood there facing east
Two stately oaks stand over there
Sillouted against a rain filled lead grey sky
Behind me the westering sun sets
Throwing its last dying rays
To fall against those stately trees
Green they stand there
Ever changing minute by minute
Lime green to olive,  to almost black
So many differing shades of green
How can any human stand there
And not see the beauty in those trees?
They started life as such small insignificant things
More than eighty years ago
But look now upon the statuesque beauty standing there
Eighty years standing against all that nature threw
Those mighty ever changing royal oaks

Every moment I
spent with her
was somehow
filled with a
full hug or
a soft kiss.

Her kitten
soft touch fills
the memories I've
kept hidden
from us all.

We made Love
more than we
slept, enjoyed
eachothers
company more
than the meals we
never finished.

She'd enjoy
the fancy salads
while I abused the
wine.

There were
more smiles
than curses,
less talking
and more
listening.

But what
made it all so
much more
than
any other
time before.

Was the fact
that there was
more laughing
than talking.
Which
left little to
no room for
foolish arguing
at all.

I stare at
these cruelties
with an eye
that has
seen the
ugly side
of Eden.

I tighten my
grip around
the wine bottles
neck with
a hand that
has been raised
and stained
in war.

My heart has
swelled,
the blood that
feeds it has grown
heavy with war.

Inner city war,
war waged against
conformity,
wars fought
hand to
bloodied hand
on a prison yard.
War amongst
my sanity and
my soul.
Wars lost
but never
surrendered.

These vicious
ways keep
me alive ,
keep me in
line.

My blood is
heavy,
slowed by
the weight of
the poppies blood.

My blood is
heavy, so very
heavy as it
runs through
these tired
veins and keeps
my heart alive.

I crave the way you touch me with your lips and the way your fingers float across my hips.
 I crave the way your legs go in between mine and the way your smile gives me butterflies inside.
 I crave hearing your voice the way you say I love you and I crave falling asleep feeling safe and sound next to you.
- bzq