Each and every place we look,
it's not the dying light which smokes upon the pyre,
but truth, and plain reality
opposed to that which we desire,
we cannot trust if all we know is doubt
and certainty is cast upon the fire

Not quite strong enough to pass,
although I try,
and beat with painted wings upon the glass,
the world beyond the window is where I want to be,
success is the garden, the butterfly is me

Dear celebrity crush,
I wish that I could clone you
so I could have my own you,
my creepy devotion
would fill up an ocean

Mycelium hair
frames her lovely face,
arms flung wide
in silent embrace,
fingers float
lilies uncurled,
peaceful she floats
slipped from the world

Crows on wind-blown corn
citizens of winter

We sit together at separate tables,
two bitter old nags who share the same stable,
once we shared every beat of the heart
but somehow we ended up miles apart

Adrift,
she fishes,
searching a foggy sea,
for a souvenir of long gone years,
and who she used to be