piece of cake

twenty one
days alone.

isolated.

detached from a world.

no human contact.

no touch.

no love.

I can do that

on my head.

blindfolded

and naked,

because

I've been doing

that for years.

letting go

I would have followed you
through a million hells.
but there comes a time
when waiting
becomes a prison
and when love
becomes a poison,
in you heart
and mind.
so I am giving up on you.
I'm letting you fall
where you fall
and shedding this weight
that I have carried for too long.
I have no regrets.
not one.
my choices were mine alone.
but in the end
you promised me nothing
and some promises
should be kept.

infatuation

you'd think
that seeing a knife
staring up from
between my ribs
would remind me
that infatuation hurts
like a mother fucker

nope

turn left

how do we change?
how do we stop longing
for what we can not hold?
these false desires
are just illusions
that inhabit a shadow
of a man
who can not turn left

tides

the tides of the heart
wash in the debris of a thousand lives
and carry away our broken stories
and unfinished dreams
but still we stand here waiting
as if lost between the waves
or swept up by the salty breeze
that dries our souls
I played here with my toys as a child
and now I sit here as a man
weighted by life
for there is a longing in me
a desire to find peace
and a connection to my youth
so with eyes closed
and hands that know only emptiness
I think of the ocean between us
that is steered by your moon
and then I hear a voice
your voice
which sounds my heart
and points me towards home

I want

I want to lose the sadness
from my memories
I want to erase the heartaches
and take back every sin
I want to see my Father again
and talk about poetry with Burt
I want to savour all those moments
that were really endings
and soak in a love
that I never realised was mine
but most of all I want to sleep
like I did when I was a boy
and dream
and dream
and dream

sparks in the dark

lowering myself into words
reminds me of baths
that are nearly too hot
and puddles
with muddy hidden depths
but still I ease myself beneath
a soft verb
or step into
an accusatory pronoun
once in
I'll swim through adjectives
and scrub my thoughts

with abrasive adverbs

until my brain becomes a prune

and then I'll soak there for hours

trying to match words to moods

and memories

whilst desperately trying to find a spark
in this dark

you were never worthy of her

she's between nevada
and colorado now
married to another
and content
but there was a time
I waited
until early hours
to say goodnight
and once even her name
sounded like a prayer
but when you love someone
really love someone
when your longing is
overtaken by your own worthlessness
and all that is left
within your dying conscience
is the desire
to see her happy
with someone else
with anyone else
then you must let go of the ledge
and fall deeper
into a loneliness
where love cannot breathe
and where truth speaks cruelly

blossom on bridges

blossom on bridges

can hide cracks

that reveals the

rocky water beneath

blossom on bridges

can hide the smell

of rotted timber

that will not

support my weight

and blossom on bridges

can blind me

as I fall

why do it?

I tell myself
that I write to heal
but that's not true
it's just
that the suffering I endure
is slightly less
than filling my wounds with salt
and watching
daytime soaps