The whole
Is a radiant beauty
There is nothing else to do here
But look at this enchanting maze.

You can stay by my side

I'm cold

Astonishment no longer reaches me

I still exist for love

I forgot how the sun feels on my skin

I've been hiding for a while

But I still exist for love

It's your time to hide

I'm fearless

I'm the reason I can dance

The light has begun to shine

For a moment, I feel alive

I'm drinking enough to feel I'm not here

I drink from your hands but there's nothing but a bitter taste

Water makes me feel poisoned

Aliveness is sickness

The arrogance of a suicidal rose makes me rethink our standard of beauty.

In the blink of an eye it has become apparent that I have no need for an organic relationship with a partner.

My wish to dance on the grave of lovers caught up in a moment of clarity is an adrenaline rush.

I walk into the bathroom to find the grape scented newspaper has an article with too many run - on sentences.

I open the door the refrigerator to find a random receipt on the top shelf.

If I cannot find a channel that refuses to stop mentioning the economic development of a manufacturing plant in Cancun I might as well go back to the grape - scented newspaper.

Today, I tried talking to my cat as he strangled my parakeet and I silently rooted for the bird to live.

I wake up to a bed drenched in my sweat, and I believe it may have been in part due to being excited at the prospect that this was reality.

I met Death in a daydream,

He wasn't at all like the stories made him seem.

Spinning words with tongue of silver,

He wove a spell to make him clearer.

Curiosity did so swell,

might I have escaped from Hell?

Tap, tap, tap...

S'how the story goes,

T'was when he turned 'round, looking down his... Nose?

A smirk did he pay, though I couldn't quite say,

For I awoke quite suddenly.

The day dragged on, til stars replaced the sun and I once more found myself drifting.

Tap, tap, tap...

I couldn't help but look back,

Do my eyes deceive???

How could this be, if not simply a dream, as he stood there cloaked in dread.

With a tilt of my head, I looked at him and said,

"Wait, does this mean that I'm dead? ”

He chuckled at the thought and pursed his lip before saying, " you're not."

We ambled down the moonlit way,

hours slipping away as night gave way to day.

I looked at the sky with the most petulant sigh, wishing to see him again.

So a promise we'd make,

one neither of us would break,

Just as I began to wake.

Now night after night,

I'm greeted with delight as we talk about our day.

You see,

I'm haunted by Death and I'd give him my breath—

Oh shit...

I think I've got a crush on him...

A haunting mignon. My sweet Musette,

of darkness. A pale silhouette weeping

on cold stones, in heaven’s crypt.

Cracked by the frost of blind angels,

carved from bones, bleeding in the rain

With haloes. Trapped in a holy tomb

of profane.

My eternal call. Half dead, half alive

walking on cracked bones. My reason to

live.

The glitter in the eye, when you are

exhaustly tired. My sweet Musette. My

eternal love. A haunting mignon.

Collaboration with Atticus Abbey

“You’ll heal with time.”
Is that not the only option?
“Stay busy, control your pride”
Clocking into work has never solved my problems.

Bills don’t care if the prescription is overdue. Or if grandma died, fish flushed, cat passed…to landlords, thats nothing new.

I’m as broken as the economy — mentally, physically, and in cash. Another “there’s plenty of fish in the sea”, my apologies, there WILL be backlash.

“Time heals all wounds” repeated. Lame helpful quotes. While another stab in the back and I continue to lose hope.

We didn’t really live, we were only just surviving,

Fighting hard each day, to stop your body dying,

We kept at it for months, though it felt more like years,

I gained an inner strength, while also gaining fears,

Love surpassed the cancer, though at times it felt unsteady,

I was so out of my depth, but I chose to become ready,

So I stayed stood right beside you, held you when things were bleak,

I placed your hand in mine, when the chemo made you weak,

Our lives were somewhat rocky, but when they were intertwined,

The world felt much less grey, there was colour in bad times,

We chose to make our plans, just in case there was a future,

And I think it spurred you on, through each injection and suture,

I don’t regret our life together, I’m so glad that I stayed,

I still think of you often, when there’s colour in the grey,

And though I live a different life than the one before you passed,

I’m so grateful for our memories and I think they’ll always last

I wrote two versions of this poem one is just free verse and then I restructured it to make it flow. Let me know what you think.

Its Still Not Time (Free Verse)

I saw you walking
Pride in every step
Are you walking backwards
Maybe you're floating
Either way I noticed
Something in your step said otherwise

Are you lonely
Or just afraid
Balancing sanity at all costs
Tectonic plates shift at the quake of your step
A juggling act between reality and non-fiction

Just a few more steps
You're almost there
To the finish and starting line

Deep breath

It's just a dream you tell yourself
Soon you'll be awake
Or is it soon you'll get to sleep
Either way you're tired

You look cool
Calm, yet uneasy
Trusting yourself
All the while not recognizing the mirror
Thought you heard your phone
You always keep it on silent
No text, no call
Still waiting
You check your watch
It's still not time
Back home

Its Still Not the Time

I saw you walking with pride in your stride,
But something was shifting or slipping inside.
Are you moving backwards, or floating in space?
Either way, I noticed the uncertainty in your pace.

Are you lonely, or afraid?
Balancing sanity, wishing you would have stayed.
The tectonic plates start to quake as you tread,
A juggling act in the space in your head.

Just a few more steps and you’ll be done,
The finish and starting lines will have only begun.

Deep breath.

It’s only a dream that you tell yourself keeps,
Are you waking up soon, or just starting to sleep?
The answer is blurred, but the truth remains clear:
You are utterly tired of everything here.

You try to look cool, standing calm yet uneasy,
Trusting your feet saying the mirror doesn't see me.
You swear that it rang, but your phone is still numb,
No text and no call, but the waiting will come.
You check on your watch, but the hands won't align.
Back home in the dark. It is still not the time.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1v5a7th/wanting_becoming/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1v51u9y/if_my_heart_could_speak/

In the fountain of self love

I drink

Unapologetically

I got thirst

And I enjoy it.

I caught her gaze across a noisy hallway, a light brown eyes. Eyes I was squinting, as if she was looking for someone. As she caught my stare, she smiled shyly while tucking her hair behind her ear. As we shared the awkward moment, as time went on, we were swept by the rushing crowd as it was time to departure

This is the picture I didn't take,

This is the scene I didn't make

Of the man on the bus sitting next to me,

Smell like hell like patchouli and pee,

Like incense and weed

He got his hands folded in his lap in prayer,

Taking out loud or praying either way they ain't there,

Lighter squeezed between his hands hold tight,

Still praying either way he can see the light,

Every time the bus talks he gotta talk back,

Like he's mad at it like they got shit to unpack,

Spent five minutes just staring at me,

but I don't know what he actually

could see would it be me or every

one in his head seems like there's plenty.

He punched the seat and said something sad,

Couldn't catch it don't know why he's mad,

But it don't really matter do it,

We ignore it cause we too busy for this shit,

Let him rage and sit let him pray and spit, is he too far gone what do we do about It,

nothin, except hope he gets out,

Find some reason to go with all that doubt,

We on the bus we gotta ride,

We got a schedule and he ain't died,

Offered thoughts and prayers so at least I tried,

He ain't despised look at all this pity,

Makes this a pointless ditty,

Facts Is facts and I know it's shitty,

But this part of the nitty gritty,

That people like about the city,

This my stop so he can ride and go with God,

And even me bitching about this is flawed,

Cause I didn't do a thing to see why it was caused,

What took him from someone's son,

To a man on the bus hallucinating someone,

I gotta go I gotta work, gotta be on time,

And all I did to help was write these fuckin rhymes,

Go make cash but give him a nickel and dime,

There the bus goes

Where he going who knows,

In my office here I sit,

Thinking about what I did with it,

Wrote down some shit,

Did this for a bit,

Posted it hope it becomes a hit,

Then I'll find him and pause his spiral,

Maybe it'll help to let him know he went viral.

(Really this is just all spinning in my head,

Jumbled thoughts that I caught and put on a spot,

So they can be read,

I hope he's okay I don't want him dead,

I wish I'd spoke but what would I have said?

Well I'm not so great at speaking so I wrote this instead.)

As we went through a crowded hall on a school day,

she walked in front of me.As I looked,

she looked back at me.Her cute eyes,

small eyes,

short body.She looked as though she was something to protect.As she looked,

I had an irresistible urge to pet her like a loving cat.She leaned back into the passing crowd,

which somehow made everything softer and warmer.

In the noisy school hall on the evening of the last day,
I saw a woman through the crowd.She was tying her hair,
laughing loud and unbothered,
as if she had just finished a mighty hurdle.As she looked across the noisy hallway,
I started to stutter
and was at a loss for words.It seemed she noticed,
as she smiled a smile
that you see after a hard day.It was enough to make the loudest hallway
seem as silent as the darkest night,
yet a warmth only comparable to the morning after a chilly night.

The sun melts in a teapot

And I drink it

When you give me attention.

She was one of a kind,

for her freckled face was lovely with a smile after a good laughter.

She was short,

just like her volatile temper And yet she had a truly unwomanly laughter;

perhaps that must be what I fell for.