darkness, cold water
stone tied around my ankle
the abyss awaits

Poems are like sprouts of green
pushing through tarmac.

Once a year I time travel
10,000 miles back
to my childhood place.

Here I am still a little boy
enjoying his mother’s food.

It’s a museum of frozen memories.
Nothing changes except the
reflections in the mirrors.

I ignore the worries about
age and illness and relish
the time with those I love.

it’s breaking my heart
listening to the silence
of unfulfilled love

in you I saw light
a bright beacon from heaven
guiding me from hell

Hey, that doesn’t rhyme,
what a ******* waste of time.

Do I really have to read this?
I don’t care about your mental fizz.

And btw, no one writes those anymore
only lonely people who hide indoor.

Honestly, what does this actually mean?
I prefer to watch a social media stream.

So, you better stop being a fool
and we might end to ridicule.

You are like
  Grieg's "Morning Mood"
played in darkness.

You are like
  a sunrise marveled upon
a mountain peak.

You are like
  a warm fireplace
after a long winter walk.

You are all that's good.

I strip away that skin,
the flesh and bones
until nothing is left,
but a single sad sob
in an empty world.