if i may,
where do you live?
where do you breathe?
whence do i seek?

shall i plunder some far-away lands
or, behold the wildflowers sprouting on my roof?
shall i aim the telescope at milky way
or, melt into my love's mellow eyes?

you see, i was told --
poetry arrives donning pieces of the seeker,
pieces long lost, or yet to be found.

On days where your bones are heavy
and your hands stay cold,

On days where your brain is overcrowded static
and your heart is sand and dust,

Remember that there is a warm bed
to welcome you home,
and music to soothe the unplaceable ache.

Azaleas in Spring
Know their blush will soon wither.
Still grateful, they bloom.

You asked
What is the scariest part?

I answer
The scariest part
is not the feeling of loneliness
or the darkness that fills you
despite the looming pain
of emptiness

The scariest part
is the realization  
that you have lost yourself
completely
sinking in as you lay awake
at 2 AM
because you lost the ability to sleep
and you can't even cry
because you don't even care

Wave away the night,
Wet grass tickling bare feet.
Each morning's slow dance.

it is the end of the day
I do not believe in god
but I am on my knees
conflict with faith yet I pray
for my soul that is flawed
there I cried under the trees

leafs on my skin
feels like a beloved’s touch
stories of heartbreak
there all my pain will begin
waited for the call a bit much
longingly admiring a mistake

lonely in a room of mysteries
plunging into woes
aiming for a notice
isn’t it cruel to wipe the histories
sculptures of us froze
and all we have is a poem