frozen a lion stands
tamed by the modeller's hands
eyes unblinking
he has no inkling
why he can't move an ounce
roar and pounce
can't jump from his place
to bite a chunk of flesh
but bugged by the creator's flaws
can't move a bit his paws
stand there in dazed surprise
in helpless awe before thousand eyes
mouth agape in a tragic roar

the truth dawning on him
he's a king no more

just a clayed clone
of a lion

When farewell is said
And no light is seen anymore
When you know sleep is not in the cards
And eyes are all shut around you
The world around becomes your own
Personal hell

You see dancing shadows against the ceiling
And your eyes are fixed on them, you try to follow their way
The smile of a wicked lover reflects from the mirror and it sends shivers down your spine
You hear the desperate shout of a woman
No one will be answering her
Not then, not now, not ever.

The man who sits there, night after night,
Paging through forgotten memoirs, with the dark soul and piercing eyes. He is the one who breaks your heart. With a ciggarette in his hand, he reminds you that life with the light on is just a hoax.

"The bitterness of dissapointed will be the persistant flavour in your mouth if you keep on believing there is more to everything around you." He says, "So go on, little girl, without putting any of your faith in that light."

He became your nightly companion. Said some wise words and made you think. Until one night he took everything with him.
The dancing shadows on the ceiling, the reflecting smile of a wicked lover and the desperate shout of a woman.
And finally you could sleep.

there was a man in front
of me on the bus, sitting
cross-legged, casual with
one arm draped along the side
of the seat next to him as if
it were his long-time lover, and
there was a ring on his finger so
i guess it worked out
and he glanced back at me
and i looked out the window
trying not to be curious or poetic

there was a man diagonal
from me on the train and he looked
familiar but i could not place
his face, maybe reincarnation is an actual thing, i thought
to myself as he exhaled and turned
the other way, so
i guess not because if it was
meant to be then his eyes would have stayed
and he looked twice at me
like a stranger
and i felt ashamed

there was a man behind
me on the street and his steps were
uneven, swaying in difficult sound waves
along the cement and i could hear him
muttering under his breath but
i didn't look back for fear he might
raise his voice
because there is truth in madness and
i am afraid of that

today my poetry was
staggered and the people around me were
ragged and worn and familiar and torn and
my sentences broke off in the wrong
places, spaces hovering between letters and
i tried to explain my fear of
the human race
but this is just a poem and
the line breaks are weird and
i am sorry but
this is how my mind was today
and i am just being honest
these people make me
afraid

why do I stay up so late

where the monsters
of what could have
and what should have
linger

why do I stay up so late

crying over spilt milk
and conversations
buried in the past

why do I stay up so late

when I know
that you reside
in those early, wine-soaked
morning hours

why do I stay up so late

and fret
about the future,
while I’m in the present

why do I stay up so late

when,
just like cinderella,
the strike of midnight
should be my cue
to cut off all emotions
and enjoy a pumpkin ride back home

why do I stay up so late

when I know
that I miss you
and it hurts the most
when I’m alone at 2am

why do I stay up so late

when breakfast is just around the corner,
and decisions made at 7am
are much more manageable
to obtain

why do I stay up so late

when I know better

i thought i wanted to see another side of you
but i couldn’t,
i didn’t
and i probably never will

truthfully, i knew all along
that there was never anything there

my
sweet, kind
partner in crime
selfless, generous
friend

i saw the way you smiled
when i smiled
and the way your eyes sparkled
when i caught them staring into mine

i’m sorry if i hurt you,
or let you down
but maybe i’m just putting myself on a pedestal

am i selfish
for wanting things to be
a little more
extraterrestrial?

should i feel guilty
because i’m longing for
fireworks?

am i self-centered
for wanting to feel
light-headed?

i want it to be magical
and i know
that you’re not the one
meant to sweep me off my feet

you don’t hold that power over me,
and you probably never will

so convict me for telling the truth
instead of sugar-coating

and condemn me
for just wanting to be your friend

but i know you’ll find someone
who’s pulse will quicken,
breath will shorten
and knees will tremble

and you will be glad,
my friend

Society has good intentions Bureaucracy is like a friend
5 years ago - other furies other losses -

America's
trying to control the uncontrollable Forest fires, Vice

The essential smile In the essential sleep Of the children Of the essential mind

I'm
all thru playing the American
Now I'm going to live a good quiet life

The
world should be built for foot walkers

Oily
rivers Of spiney Nevady

I
am Jake Cake
Rake
Write like Blake

The
horse is not pleased Sight of his
gorgeous finery
in the dust Its silken
nostrils
did disgust

Cats
arent kind Kiddies anent sweet

April
in Nevada - Investigating Dismal Cheyenne Where the war parties
In fields
of straw
Aimed over oxen At Indian Chiefs
In wild headdress Pouring thru
the gap
In Wyoming plain
To make the settlers
Eat more dust than dust
was eaten In the States From East at Seacoast Where wagons made up To dreadful
Plains
Of clazer vup

Saltry
settlers
Anxious to ******* The Mongol Sea (I'm too tired in Cheyenne -
No sleep in 4 nights now, & 2 to go)

This is the darkest that I've ever felt
You know that
You've known that for a long time
You didn't have to tell me that you cared you know
You could've taken your outing just like everyone else has
My mind has been a dark place for years
But you're just now deciding to recognize it?
*******
I'm tired of writing about you
I'm tired of caring about you
I'm tired of loving you
In all honesty
I just wish I never met you

I am a child of the sun
and it is night.