Sullen eyes that seek comfort
after a bout of worrying
and churning stomachs
days on end without medicine
supplies are only for the few

They come and go
while the man behind the table
waits for a minute to rest
coming home without sleep
pushing the old wheel of life

The vulnerable and disconcerted
may rest on their arched backs
hanging on to nothing
but spare change to their names

The mortal life only seeks to be saved

Someday we will get up from this mess
of stirred blankets and soiled laundry
living on piles of boxes and untouched documents
old unworn garments hanging on the curtain rod

The stench of manure and the old man’s unkept
bags carried over last night’s binge and false beliefs
with evidence of old computer notes
to pretend he’s making money
will someday be a memory

Baking tools and sundresses
will finally make it on today’s to do lists
black circles will not be hidden because
we were not made to be pulled apart like dolls

When the time comes
birds and the sound of leaves falling,
the loud bang of the overripe fruit atop
our heads echoing through the roof
like the sound of nature telling us

We are not frail for walking
on steel bridges bare foot
waiting for rain to fall
like dancing

Strongly the grip of the earth
and winds churning about this house
led us to these sights we cannot ignore
to leave this place
to start new maps with bare hands

If I was a child today
I'd be crying on scraped knees
with blood spilt on the floor
and tears won't cost as much
But every time I fall
I'd know better

If I was a girl to chase
All the boys would do right by me
and say pretty things
makes life a little easier
I'm a breather
and they're sold

If I was a woman to keep
All the men would hold me
dear and respect me
Walk with me until we reach
the highs and lows of
every corner of my mind
and inch closer to my dreams
as I breathe in, pulling in
seeing soul to soul

If I was a game to play
They'd sit idly by
Find any reason to escape
as they're done
toying with me
and all these emotions
I made up in my head.

I love the moon
and the way it speaks to you
I don't have to utter a sound
Because it speaks to me and you

The mess we're hiding tonight
The rest is history
Let's be me and you, shining bright
Sweet melancholy

I love the moon
and the way it speaks to me
And you don't have to utter a sound
Subtle smiles speak to me and you
The mess we're hiding tonight

Good night,
I will wake up the next morning
with moons under my eyes
coffee stained teeth
from another round
of climbing piles
of untouched books
or waiting
for the game to end
you play around with time
i only see the music
between you and me
you sitting across my lap
when we could have travelled together
i turn to see your face
your eyes lost
a hundred faces away
it is the last thing i remember.

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

Today I fell
and met a stranger
sitting across the room
he is sipping black coffee
as he meets my gaze

I read my book
in pretense, still
he is holding back
behind his dark rimmed glasses

We look up
and see the other
stealing glimpses
and a hint of a smile
We are
lighting up the room

You wake up from a nap
I am halfway across
finding another shelf
to hide
my thoughts
of you and I–
a fantasy

I wake up
and you are sleeping again.