When I was with you I would dream
Of lying in your bed and looking up
As your long, thin hair formed a curtain
Around us; expelling the outside world
With its fabled intimacy.

In this dream, our eyes could not be torn
To look away or stray from love.

But today my own hair is long and thick,
And I see in my periphery as it falls
To embrace the head of my new love;
Who I hope also dreamt of this moment,
And who will not be disappointed as I.

Come now, apocalypse! End my pain in one fell blow

Bring the fury of nuclear winter or the fire of Hell below

Do not make me wait for death. Do not linger by degrees

Do not be silent or stoic while you bring me to my knees

Be swift and sincere as you unleash those unnamed fears

No more heartache no more hoping no more half-unshed tears

Come now, my love. Be direct with me, and deft

For I know a deathly quickness is the only kindness you have left

I'm a weak and anxious man, prone to insecurities that I only dare mumble to myself and my god and my therapist

--But mostly just myself, for fear of losing the others to the mayhem.

The brain is not a perfect vessel.

But you are. And still, the whispering comes at times

When we are far away or you are in my bed or we need a moment's space to breathe.

The wait is never long and we return to be as happy as sunshine

But periodic clouds cast a longer shadow

To those of (me) who lived in the darkness and learned to crave the bitter truth -- even when it was only with my eyes closed.

And isn't it sad? How I cannot hold tight the thing that I have more faith in than god? (Or even, often, myself...)

To see you smile up at me--perfect--and not be forever content??

Strike me down for my sins against you! **** the rooster if it squawks again; my denying days are finished.

Oh love, will you forgive a weak man in the eye of a storm?

Tell me about those future tides
That move within the crinkles
At the corner of those green minefields,
Which stare with such intensity
That love has wrought
And pain has sharpened
In the lakes of corn that hold
Too many graves for you,
My sweet.
Your sorrow crashes down
While you look up at me
And marvel at
How many times you call my name
And how many times I answer.
Still,
I wonder if it is enough
To understand the sorrow without
Having felt it in my bones
Everyday-- a lack
That cannot be filled no matter
How softly (or rough) I kiss you
Or how badly I make it known
That you are mine.

Late in the night, when crows flock and moon swells,
You arise from the dead to haunt me.

My room glows with an eerie blue
My crystal ball turns black and rectangular--
Still cloudy and shining, but now with technicolored lights.
And sound! Not with voice or a ghostly yawn;
But the pin-***** "ding" of a message from beyond.

It tells me that heaven and hell cannot contain you.
That you will not be silenced by the end.
There IS no end because you will not let it;
A corpse too stubborn to die, too cold to live.