Our scope of the world.. no, the universe is like being trapped inside a snowglobe thats trapped inside another snowglobe. Once we break the one we're in, we start to see more layers. There is always more to see.

you shunned when the light came through,
tousled hair, eyebags hanging loose.
you were always good at navigation,
your future though was in the opposite direction.
your smiles were fueled by smokes and dreams,
effervescing in snowglobes of sleepless mist.

i was merely a fly attracted to fire,
hoping your tendrils could propel me higher.
when you learnt that i glowed in the night,
eyes shut tight, you extinguished the light.

he was a fly who wanted to be a dragon,
his gaze held beats of 25 per second.
they said it'd sting when he touched me,
the devil's needles, they called him.

whoever believed in those stories,
couldn't be any more sorry -
dragonflies can't hurt fireflies,
for they're both creatures of the night.

Couple peaches floating down the river
Fall leaves cool and quiet drift aimlessly
Knowing how hard it can be to see
You don't understand infinity
Such a talent to deploy
A town of snowglobes unemployed

Such things can be tasted before sunset
The moments of crisp light
Something you cannot find on the internet

like snowflakes in snowglobes we're
falling to p
                 i
                  e
                   c
                    e
                     s.
("'cause when a heart breaks
no it don't breakeven.")
if i shout it from a rooftop
does it become more true?
no, and that's why i whisper,
"don't hurt me. don't forget me."
but it's too late. we've hurt and
we've forgotten whom we used to be.
and i walk away from the phone muttering,
"what's wrong with her?"

it's not true. i should be saying,
"what's wrong with me?"

i knocked on your door
and entered your room,
the first thing i noticed
was the way the sunlight
filtered in through your window
and the photographs you put on your wall
were these pictures of the people you loved?
the places you wanted to see?
i almost stumbled
trying to avoid the books
scattered on your floor
you said it was alright,
they didn't matter to you anyway
i looked around
and found that you tried to fill
every blank space of your walls
with maps, posters, notes, reminders—
did they give you company
whenever you felt lonely?
the stereo in the corner
was blasting tunes from the 90s
and i saw the way you hung
your favorite jacket on your chair
and the way your desk
had piles of papers and little snowglobes,
your reading light hung right above
where your head would be when you slept,
your wardrobe was a mess
spitting your favorite hand-me-down's,
i wanted to get to know you more

and that's when i knew
i was on holy ground,
treading upon a world
i suppose not everyone sees...
thank you for letting me in.

We will all meet again
When time has wound to an end.
We will grasp the frazzled, ragged edge
And run along it until we find
The beginning of time
And her twisted hedge.
She will clutch us against her silken blouse
And at last…
We will find our peace in that old yellow house….
Not one foul word will we remember
Not one ugly face
Not one weeping December.

It will all be as if it never took place
I won’t remember the cuts on my arm
The harm
I did to myself…
Nor the cuts I can’t see
The missing snowglobes on my mother’s shelf….

Have's verses the have not's.
Hickies on my bones
In a thousand candlelit rooms
Soda pop and snowglobes
I haven't had time to loose my mind
Fragmented glimpses of solar plexus'
Waning gibbous' in the spring
Held your bare soul
with my eyes closed
Catharsis at sundown
Sometimes I feel more alone
Your hanging words were carved in
stone in sleek shards of abalone
cold to wrap my ribs around
It's a cycle of regressing into the
future
The consciousness of lack
Relapsing memoirs
Secrets for the dreaded end to
receive silently
Watching flowers grow
Purity rings or pregnant at 16
A born romantic who lost their
virginity to the dashboard light
Sidewalk slants like tectonic
plates tripping into the night
Weary limbed and still wide eyed
City to city
Passing through the signs of roads
has left me feeling like a gypsy
Boxes of my favorite things I
loose a little more along every
place until I've lost everything
Receptive to the voices in the rain
singing solace to your pain
I wipe off of foggy mirrors in
hotel rooms
Sleeping on the floor
"Carpe noctem" and such said
slurs under a draped porch sitting
on the stairs
Black widow spider silk along
the wall's and
a thousand days faded to setting
suns
the starry rays all are gone
Asteroid belt in a handful
Like teeth, a smile that's
crooked and bent beneath
curled lips chapped and spent
filling the spaces between the
gaps.

Tic tock the birds all cood
The clocks and pendellums swiched and swood

He loved his clocks, they kept him company
Even to a vampire, immortality gets lonely

He was an odd one of his race no doubt
The only one he knew who slept spread out

Clausterphobia is uncommon to find in his kind
But even in his coffin he felt confined

He thought it perfectly reasonable though
As he paced around his clocks to and fro

He always found the coffin dark and stuffy
If you had to sleep forever, you'ld choose
something big and fluffy

More ironic than that he found was his fixation
Time to him was an endless execration

His fate rung in his mind with every tic
A rhythmic reminder beginning to make him sick

It's actually madenning listening to every tock
Eons have past with these God forsaken clocks

He finally decided to pick up a bat
And smash every cukoo bird he had outright flat

But even as he lay on his fluffy white bed
Staring at broken bits and gears, his relief unsaid

Still he found the lair a tad bit dry
No more company around to keep him by

He realized that there was not much to be done
He should make the most of his time, and have a little fun

But first he had to spruce up the place, making sure it wouldnt frustrate
With something that, prefrebably, didnt remind him of his fate

He sat there staring at nothing, stiff and perplexed
And thought sternly to himself "Maybe snowglobes next"

Hiring me to repair
and prepare the old rental
for you to occupy
after you sold our house,
I found the collection
of carefully selected snowglobes
bought for you over years
and the original copy
of my gift poem
left with the tenant's trash.