I am you looking at me
look into me and what do you see?
you see me looking at you

I look at you and what do I see?
I see you looking at me
for you are me looking at you

The sun on my tongue tastes

like home, like childhood, like all the happy parts,

like warm syrup running down my spine

and my worn feet, on grass, thistles, bluebells, your bed,

springing up to touch the wooden ceiling

later to be found peaking out from the duvet

as I was waking up to rain early

and smoke from the chimney across the way

and looking over to see, on the night stand, steaming tea and sticky-sweet buns

that taste like the sun, and you.

Our bodies are great things

Despite our hate and years

of alcohol and poison and mocking words

our bodies still stand and work

When our souls

crawled under our own darkness

And we certainly thought we could not continue on

Our bodies picked us up and kept moving



The hills and large parts of our bodies

Holding memories of all we've ate and said and done



The bones of us

Keeping us up and laying us down

Our skin, covering all the oddest parts of us

Our brains, the only machines

to create cures for themselves

Our bodies are great things

Our cases and our cages

Holding us together

Keeping us in.

No, I don't want this
But does anyone?
The want of someone's attention
But instead you get none

I guess it's human nature
Wanting what's untouchable
But what hurts deep down
Is feeling you're incapable

Take my hand
And you'll never be alone
I'll always be here
I won't ever let you go

Take my heart
It's beating just for you
With feelings incomparable
I only wish you knew

Take my world
I'll give it to you dear
Leave everything I know
Just to have you here

Slug inching across to the other side,
What’s so near, apart, a mile wide.
Snap, and an answer you’d expect,
Moment of silence, an eon to reject.

Indeed, wine becomes finer with time,
The taste of patience, all but sublime.
Sour hours drag as the clock ticks
While nails nibbled down to the quick.

Frantically searching for your other half
Only to be impaled by rejection’s gaff.
Blessed are those who patiently wait,
For there’s always a fish for every bait.

At first it may seem not worthwhile,
Surely your reward will crack a smile.

Ants march to their empire
With the crumbs of giants
Along a riverine path
Sinuous like the forest nymphs.
The leaves gossip with winds
From Earth’s four corners,
Tales of how the mighty have
Fallen to the tides of change.
Fate sisters are dead, no longer
Can they tickle the fickle threads
Which orderly suspend the universe.
Streams of chance revitalize
The mundane gray horizons
That blanket industrial visions,
Where nails and hammers make
Love to each other, the mechanical
Euphoria erecting shanty towers
Bending to the gravity of need.
Pallid faces are mass produced
In the land of milk and honey.
They said this is where dreams
Were born from black ashes,
Yet only meek weeds were able
To sprout in such parched air.
An awakening is imminent,
Whispered the winds to the leaves.
The youth will fertilize the scorched
Earth with soft, tolerant hands.
Callouses will peel off with the
Soothing touch of promise, as
The old dead skin rides the dust.