None of them so much
As to be considered
I’m going to write
It down anyway.
Dawn falling in fragments
Chasing the nightmares
Back into my drowsy head.
Classic novellas that
End with a kiss
Rather silly, when
The whole point
Of the story
Am I still your delight?
The pinnacle that throws
Blossoms under your sheets
And makes you smile with
Am I still your late nights,
Or has insomnia coquetted you?
The silver snow stirred
In an autumn pantomime
My patio steps are slippery
A blackbird hums distant.
I promised I shan’t admit such a thing, but…
The songs they sing feel like home.
The irretrievable memories
Of you laughing drunkenly
Under sodium streetlights
As I kept the secret of time
Away so we wouldn’t have
To depart so suddenly now.
Realm infected shadows slip under cedar oak limb
And they painted solemn lips a disorienting black
Vagabond lilies predicating the spirits of escapism
And again the sober hostages soused away the rest
With thrushes, silhouettes and asphodel disembark.
The magnet polaroids
Stuck to the refrigerator door
Showing a false smile under layers of
In a bad party for the ageless
The pedestrians of Ridgemont High
Are caught in fast times
And the brake halt threw their heads
Out of the car window.
My pulse is dancing in colourful circles
Won’t you try to catch its flightless beat?
Calla-lilies serenade the moon
Icicles piercing icteric sunshine
Stars made for butterfly cocoon
Frog grass stepping, undefined
A diary written in brushstrokes
Of one artless individual’s chest
My ink is bleeding out and soak
I’ll tear out the pages of the rest.