envy sustains me,
envy of the flowers that bloom
in adversity.
such marvels, whereas i,
but a blade of grass, for now.

all i want to do is help people
because all i want is
someone to help me.
struggles struggle on.
press on, press on.

the time we spent, the smile
and the look
still haunting me.
accursed be the humid heat
that awoke me from the dream.

what's your story?
and what are your dreams?
these questions i long to ask
and longer still,
in immortal desire
of these questions posed to me...
i fantasise without substance
of having solid,
topological answers.
they are constructions
of smoke and shadows
while behind my brow unburdened.

if only i could be the night
so as to find you looking,
full of wonder,
into my eyes and abyss.

the gentle swell
of your bountiful life
merging
with the pallid horizon
that touches a place where i
cannot accompany you.

the body i live with
is not comfortable with me,
expressed in a voice
without sound
that is an occasional harmony.