let me sleep
in a deep slumber
until the pillows suffocate me
until the bed envelops me
how kind

let me sleep
long enough
so I never awake
to burdens
of a restless mind

leave me be
so I never hear
another cry
echoing echoing
in the brain

leave me be
an undisturbed state
not in vain, nor pain
but rather,
sane

Deep in the screws of his lonely keep,
Waiting for word of a land promised,
Sentinel man watches across the sea
Never knowing faith was so dishonest.
Across the sea of doom lies his joy,
What awe, so spindrift were his days
And what lay behind was no corridor
And all his dreaming has left no ways
Forward, but to sink with hapless sorrow
And flowing to the thirsty ocean seas,
He pours another drink, toasts tomorrow
And all the empty horizons of history.
Spiraling down he leaves his diggs,
Praying, death be not a doornail's rig.

I'm not simple.

I am January - cold and grey and ugly.
I am February - short and dark and gloomy.
I am March - fierce and complicated and bipolar.
I am April - warm and sweet and full of colour.
I am May - sunny and blooming and frenzied.
I am June - the scent of summer and hope and the feeling of freedom.
I am July - the burning sun and the sand beneath your toes and the sun in your hair.
I am August - the sea waves crushing against you and the lazy shade underneath a tree and the grass tickling your feet.
I am September - pouring rain and gales and the fog creeping in.
I am October - red and brown and orange, the crunching of dry leaves and that the darkness that's falling.
I am November - distant and lonely and drowning.
I am December - the frost on the windows and the gentle snowflakes, and the dunes of snow, and the freezing coldness, I am December - decaying.

I am not simple. A little complicated, messy.
Can you take me?

I am no longer
the hollow of my collarbone
or the skin on my thighs
I am no longer
the frailty of my bones
or the space between my legs
I am the words
that flow from my lips,
and the way they curl and disappear
into the lungs of strangers
like smoke from a cigarette
I am the warmth I feel
when I hold you in my arms
I am the way I sing when
I’m afraid, attempting to find
light in a world full of dark
I am not my body, for it is
just a shell that holds my true
self; I am me,
and I am beautiful.