winter has come
empting your nests
exposing bone
revealing weakness.
as the rot of cold
sets in, the birds
flee your
ribbed cages,
taking with them
their songs, and
leaving behind
your desire to escape.

The combing of the hair
the brushing
the hand holding the strands
brushing her hair

Coco wishes
it was her hair
wants to feel more
than hair

wanting to feel full stop
to enter in
to hold
to kiss

to take
each inch of skin
and lick
and o gods of wherever

is this love?
such overwhelmingness
such empting
and the hair held

the fingers
letting run through
the sensation
the breath held

the breathing paused
love o love o love
and then
there is this

that wanting
to be with
wanting
to have and kiss

and the brushing of hair
and eyes taking in
each aspect
from each angle

and she is speaking
and Coco hears
but doesn’t
listens but the words

are slippery as eels
and are gone
but there
allusive

just out of reach
and the neck
and the skin
and that space

her eyes settle on
and that bath time
that watching
as one does

that drying of another
as one is paid to do
but more
o love wants more

not once
not twice or thrice
but forever
if such there is

for this young miss
for Coco
to have and hold
and deeply kiss.

the earth moves
where once the stillness of nature and God walked
the edges
of a trembling tree fell from his grasp
while the perfect antlers that he once stalked turned to him,
asking if he felt it too;
but what could be this force
that also brought the tide closer to where we once laid,
with the sun upon our skin
while we cried silently on the inside
as our hearts became like hands on a clock
measuring how long we could possibly love one another;
and it rained and rained, cold snow
and the heat, yes the heat
so much that the fires that once burned fearlessly
turned away;
yet all of these things were only the spoiled dreams
of a quiet day walking with you in the park;
for what could be worse than our angry friends
turning on one another,
unable to ignore the messages
cascading down upon us,
like endless icicles
seeking to dip into the blood of our fears,
making it flow,
empting the hearts that once believed in one another
until we gasp for their solution,
to cure the disease they created within us

Your frantic search will end in peace,
That is, if you search at all.
Blinded by the definition of what you’re looking for,
You drift, constantly, away.
The mind wonders from star to star,
If each star is a wish waiting to be wished upon,
Why do we not get what we want?
The moon lies dismantled,
Behind the curtains of floating clouds,
Aimless, towards infinity.
Its scars help us relate,
To sunken, half smiling faces,
Which define who we really are behind,
Eyes which penetrate the soul,
And with each story unraveled,
We find ourselves, having the same dark side.
With each time our hearts are lost and found,
We fear, fear ourselves of the mistake
Which an individual is bound to make,
That is, of course, expectation.
I have faith in you,
For I expect you to be there,
And with those wise words our miseries begin.
We leave things unsaid,
Switch off the lights and pack up our memories.
In fear of empting the half filled cup,
You breathe deeper instead,
Instead of saying a word,
You stand alone dramatically,
Under dismayed skies,
Pouring its pity on you,
Trying to wash it all away.
You follow the lines on your tear stained face,
They race each other,
They make you shiver,
Remembrance is painful yet a means of survival.
For even though they are packed away,
They persist.
Dizzy thoughts circle your mind,
Darkness hovers as you fear.
Fear, for you have fallen again.
And you are free falling, just falling.

You fight alone,
With skinned hearts, you bleed,
And it won’t be long
Before you find yourself
Drowning, deeper within you,
Fearing you aren’t who you thought you were.
A constant, crystal clear river of questions,
Run through your veins,
For you grew up way too fast,
Belief is now a chore,
Suffering a ritual,
And pain?
Pain is just what you are left behind with.
The faint morning light dawns upon you,
You wake with fear in your heart,
You’re so human and flawed.
So now you conclude,
That your existence is filled with hope,
You expect, hence fear arises again,
From the ashes, each emotion awakens,
The ones that once killed you,
For you had died, over and over again,
The same ones brings you back,
Only to make you realize,
That you always knew what was at stake,
And so, you knew,
That fear was your only truth.

I feel so silly
Almost stupid
It's coming on 2 years since we first locked eyes
And we're not about to celebrate
I'm actually in morning over this great love I thought I had
I thought we had

Despite your games
And all the words to calm my nerves when things were going astray, I should've paid more attention to your actions
I should've forced myself to read in between the lines
I should've forced myself to walk away from you
Even if my beating heart laid in your hands as my feet made quiet steps on the pavement

I've been stuck
Over thinking, over questioning, over wishing and being overly pathetic over you
I've spent so much time pondering where it all went wrong
But, I'm starting to think it was never right
The path that lead me to yours was much more worn and you weren't ready for a rescue
Though I didn't want you to rescue me
Life's not a fairy tale
All I wanted was you and you alone
I thought you were the best thing to walk into my life
And to walk out

I'm still puzzled
Is it normal to stare at a door that's been closed for so long?
To still dream you're laying besides me
Only to wake up with the overwhelming awareness of your absence..
Do you even ever look back, or just glance at that door?
Or were you always halfway out if it with her
And it was never alright of me to ask you to stay

You were my gun
I was the trigger
And when the bullets ran out, so did you
Aimed right at my heart until there was nothing left
I can't even cry anymore
But, I feel so empty inside
And I don't understand how that can be
Because you never took your hand off the trigger until the fire ceased
And it didn't take long for them to run out and as shot apart as I was I chased you until it seemed you fell off the earth

And you probably never realized when you disappeared into the horizon you still had my heart in your hands
It's all been so wrong
There's no excuse for me to still be on my knees
Your life continues with her
I just wonder what you'll do when you discover my heart hidden in your drawer
Will any guilt eat at you, will you remember the trigger that lead you to be my gun?

This isn't silly
It's so so sad
And if it's alright with you
I'll take my heart back now
The timing isn't ever gonna be right
Neither are we
Even if I never let go
I'm empting these chambers
Crying as the bullets hit the floor
You might be the gun still
But there's nothing left, it's empty
Just a hollow clicking sound remains
We're out of rounds... Been out of rounds

I can't be stupid anymore
If you give me my heart back
I'll put my gun away

I'll put my gun away

Beloved
Hearts Desire
3 prongs Royal,
Without yet a Pair
Empting the Heart.
For You,
I NOW End

A Dogs Bark in the Background
A Tea Rose in the Breeze
Gently Lifted
Reminder
Of the World Outside

Alizarin Crimsom
Shade,
None Duplicate
Whispering Sorocco
Of Desire Within
Your Oceans Breeze
With Loves Scent

You were Pink Once
Vibrating Harmony
Golden String upon the Flesh
Cupids Arrow from a Harp
Of Golden Light

Blues and Greens
Once Welcoming
Waters Edge
How You have Devoured Me
For my Trysts
Of Learning
Love's Desire
Stillness
In Flow

It was You who Called
And I that answered
Never meaning
To Take my eyes off
The fringed Guarder
Of Your Ledges
I fell
Reaching forward
Listening, Listening
Sound
Of Your Heart
So Beautiful
And Filled With Mystery
A Symphony
Of Loves Sharing
Heavenly Blessing
Reaching
Giving
Beauty
It was a Gift
I sought for You
A Pearl
In the Most Beautiful Shell
For your Glory
A Hero
For Your Love

I felt a hand on my back then..
And None was there
To Hide Me
For Your Hope

Pushed
by a Friends Want
I Fell
Wondering.. HOW
My Wings Broke
But My Love
If anything
My Strength
Was made Grown
Stronger

Climbing
Again and Again
All the Ocean
Hoped For Me
Cliffs of
Departure
I released Everything

Until
Finally
There was nothing  left

Your Death
Now Part of Me
As Much as Your Life
No Words
Can I Exclaim

A sugartree wants to grow
my heart is the intended field
smothered by a hundred storms
broke the surface and now I can heal
waiting for a certain warmth like your skin
and a breeze sweeping all of me like your breath
my stomach is a bottomless desire for treats:
eyes that wrap one like destiny,
and the wavy line thrown into one's ocean: I love you;
woven into the fabric of my eyelids
these afternoons close on me still, empty
stars flash with my longing
each night I dream your sweetness
humming as the tree hums when swept
in a pre-empting wind:
it is me searching
and not finding.

Whatever happens
getting over you won't be a problem,
and that's not pre empting
bitter exclaim,
saying you meant nothing,
no,
you did,
you're wonderful.
Nor does it mean
I was immune to your charms
or the pangs or clangs
calling love to arms.
And not that I won't
be sad
for the stop
at promise
and what we may have missed,
just,
just because.
No,
it won't be a problem to get
over
because it means
there was joy to get over,
a joy that made days full
of time;
where all that was
was
at once.

Carving deep grooves into my heart,
Embroidered with jewls as well as scars,
Lustrous you are for me,
Everything about you so lovely,
Serenading a tune,
Tempting you,
E**ternally and entirely loving you.

By Darcy Prince

“The arc of my soul, infected my entire essence, not only my meaning has been found, it deepens into my existence, take me, smile for me now as I’m here for you.” I sighed, wiped off my tear, put out my smoke and got up.

Empting the final sip of my coffee into the kitchen sink. I sprayed myself with some fragrance. Feeling that I'm a world apart when I’m not in her presence. I dressed myself for the day, despite the stains on my clothes and my exit.

‘We’ll still have each other’, conveying to myself leaving the apartment block, to the filled out street of over packed roads and flooding sidewalks. I looked around and confirmed within myself what to do first. Knowing I need new books, to help jump start a new novel to write. I lit a smoke and walked to the markets first. The funny thing about entering middle age, one accepts one has never fully peaked, perhaps only their aesthetic beauty.

I sussed out the fruit, I smelt the herbs, handles red apples and placed what I wanted into the basket, I paid and thanked the clerk and left. Having a coffee. I run over what books I had and tried to focus what I should buy. I think had ready almost most victorian books and should cross over to more modern fiction. Not Hemingway though. Pynchon perhaps.

The complex sounds of the outside world. Gave a strong sense of over-populated life. Not only of natural life of the world, but of people too and their artificial inventions. I looked around and saw only phones and no conversations between tongues and lips. I giggled at my own irony. I’ve got no-one besides her and wondered how this neurotic romantic lead a life to this moment.

Especially where the narrative inside of my internal life made more sense than the reality I live.

I guess I’ve been engaging all to much of the problematic parts of my own nature.

‘Oh why is it all too easy to act on vice than it is to virtue?’ I asked myself.

Nevertheless, great people all started off as people first, common or not. I soaked in the bookstore and the smells of each page. Felt at home and upholding an intellectual dialog with the world around. I walked each asle, my eyes looked at each stem of the books side, stroked a couple as I walked, no Pynchon so-far, his books must be as elusive as him. And even though I'll never confess to another, writers and readers are too alike. The only difference that the search of their overwhelming introverted like quiet life, one wants to talk as the other wants to listen. I settle on the book ‘Heart of Darkness’. To aide my own horror I wouldn’t dare to speak of in the confessional box, a poet’s wet-dream to be a fly on the wall. I’ll be content if it’s been heard before, but whacked if I’m not the worst.

I stepped outside and the sun went from shining to glarring, the world enlarged and as everybody walked past, they looked at me, I lit a smoke and some yelling across the street caught my attention. Some junkies I rolled with in clean-time are back onit, cause I see they're fake. An image to resonate. To the contrary, everyone else, I see clearly are the same.

Harder to act on virtue in this world, is to be truly yourself and not feel so alone. When you see me holler at me, life is mystery, trust the poets flow to deny those who are the same into one’s life, is a no-no.

‘To society’s narrative, earthly success of gold that can’t be taken into the next life seems all too important than building one self to something of Holy worth before death. Let me spark it for you. The World is getting colder, lover, let me hold you.’ Just read one page of ‘Heart of Darkness’, Conrad just inspired to start a new novel. A romance after the end of times. I haven’t fully figured it out, the story of it that is.

Still, sprinkle of thoughts of her, stirs so much inside of me. Not feeling alone. And it pains me so much to be away from her. Lighting a smoke to help with this angst. Her, once a cherish search to find her, she’s so precious, still, I know it’s healthy to be away from here from time to time. Maybe the pain comes from suppressing such romantic-grandeur emotions about her in any moment. The experience of reality and colliding with such reams, a collage of combustions.left me wondering, what will burst first?

Checking the phone. She hasn’t messaged me.

A romance, a cult like - folk tale lived only in personal experience.

I put out my smoke and regained my composure. I continued to write. Like most things of my life, I stared strong and full of hope. I ended up writing a lot, but the feeling of starting a new novel fizzled.

Outside, I left my apartment block. I am international myth. I power walked through every other living being, I’m sure they've got traits to what makes them. I got to the cafe early-on. I read a book and drunk some tea. The war of what is needed and what is wanted, eternal. I wait anxiously. We’ve set up a time to see one another……………………….

When you are not understood
Like the clock stopping its ticking
Yet still there in the hall
As substance without voice
And then there is a turning away.

For no longer all that expectation
An empting of oneself.
Like the snail's silver trail
A relic from the past
Deposited on a garden path.

Love Mary x