Alone and drowning with curiosity
The little moth played around the fire
Warm and bright, the moth felt gay and free
But too close it got
And a little closer
So dangerously close
The warmth turned to heat
Bright it was and blinding
Still welcoming
But slowly killing the unwary thing.
The moth felt it
The scorching pain
But its nosiness won
Against all intuition to bail.
It was the first time the moth felt happy
For such a moment
To have quenched its thirst
To have followed the sweet beat of curiosity
And the fire
Danced joyously as the moth
Deceived, unsuspecting
Flapped its wings one last time.

But lucky it was to have survived
So close to tragedy
Face to face with reality
The price paid for innocence
The price almost life
The price more than life
The little moth
Now stripped its former identity
Wounded and destroyed
So close from the past that the feelings still linger
Yet so far from it now.

I used to go out for cigarettes before bed
with music and connection to the world,
I’ve learned to clam the
addiction to nosiness about
trump and
syria,
petitions about
dying dogs and
sensitivity,
and I just sit out there with a shovel
in my eyes digging the other way and
appreciating the sky and watching the
clothesline sway like elevator wire
and I feel more connected
by reading the stones that
shower a braille on my palms
as I tap the ground in withdrawal

No one ever said
Forever would be easy
Past infidelities and abuse
They still carry around
Ghosts that still haunt them
While you still have your
Self doubt, anxiety, depression
Hidden away in those dark places of
Who you are and used to be

You accept their
Paranoid nail-biting nervous hair twirling
Impulsive pen tapping incessant gum popping
Greed indecision pride, nosiness, sarcasm
Deal with their
Stubborn, psychotic, drama queen
Multiple personality moments
Which are less than desirable
Parts you wish
Weren’t always there

Like when they’re sobbing so loud
It’s impossible to hear them
Or they get so scared
You have to talk them down Off the ledge
Backed so far into a corner
All they feel is the pain inside
They’re so weak
You have to hold them up
Support their weight
While the universe
Crumbles around them
When tricks become the truth
Mistakes that still remind us of forever

Still, most of love is in the fights
Arguments on the edge of rational
Cement your relationship in place
That prove being together is
Worth the pain

Sometimes small arguments
Like where to go or who pays for what
When you go out
Turns into a fight where
The tiger tears open a new wound, roars
MONEY! MONEY! MONEY!
Someone’s face turns into a ripe tomato
That needs to be picked
Smashed against the wall
Juicy pulp and seed
Splattering everywhere

Still, the black rose blooms
From the same seed
Scraped from the wall
Where it grows into a beautiful flower
That only guarantees
With a little care it can last
Forever, still

my heart unhinges, crackling
when midnight stares at me
bleak anticipation lingering
where nosiness of endless stars -
dusted over me not yet ablaze
was not enough;
even if they freckle my skin
and speckle my heart - but
i sleep next to creaking doors and
breathe in synch to planets dying -
i am not ready yet, dear, i won't yet go
i kiss the moon and stars goodnight;
when midnight stares at me, i stare right back.

A man of thoughts thought I myself to be
Until you came and shattered my belief
A plentitude have I to learn and see
A multitude of lessons and so brief

Is life on Earth that I cannot contain
My curiosities or nosiness
They drive a passion unable to feign
And all for want of you, I must confess

I doubt you are unwitting of this fact
No need to be reserved, you know it’s true
Endowed with many gifts that don’t detract
From beauty I can’t help but see in you

And so this means I must request of thee
The help from you to make a better me

The four had arrived in the same car
I watched as they entered the waiting area together
they were obviously family
they all took seats
but none together
scattered throughout the room
as if they were actually strangers
my interest was captured
ok, curiosity or even nosiness
call it what you will
discretely I watched
no-one spoke a word
no-one shared a glance
until one was called to enter the other room
another stood along with the one called
they entered through the door
still, no words
only the one glance and beckon
moments later they returned
without a word,
the two who were left in the waiting area stood
the four then left together
I am still not sure
as to whether they a were picture of disconnect
or totally connected

Being grateful for these fingertips
Being grateful for the sight
Being grateful for the hearing
Being grateful for the air on skin
Being grateful is the way to change
Brain changes with gratitude
Brain gains gray matter when thankful
Being grateful counting blessing
Beyond the sarcasm and the pointers
Beyond the nosiness of the bystander
Be grateful for who you are
Be grateful for what you are
Be grateful for your journey
Notice your fingertip
Notice the sounds around you
Notice the sense of touch
Notice with awe and wonder
Notice that you are blessed
Notice that you are the blessing

a metropolis' occulted pedestrians--

produce photographic negatives,

between their: A to B.

densified luminaries aping the nosiness

of the smallest village, with supposed

anonymity.

from oversaturated death stares, to the

preternatural speed reads of body language.

where that other is still a dwarf of distance.