Sometimes on not so lazy days I scrub whole continents off pans thinking of you who creates the very things which make up the length of my days That abnormally large book, Atlas you once called friend now sits on a shelf with many odd pages and friends of its own and I keep scrubbing … Continue reading Forty Seven
Believe me none of this is personal We’re all just misplaced clues and pieces scattered about in various places
Finally she understood what happened It was late and she was tired.All she wanted was a sleeping bag and a corner to call her own for five hours The truth is she didn’t trust us If she said she trusted him that too was a lie She didn’t trust herself amongst us At least that’s … Continue reading Forty Six
I feel like I should have seen it. Known his name, its name or a face. The face I would attribute to saving my life. Should have known what it, he wanted from me, with me. I felt like telling it, telling him thank you maybe even I love you, not because I maybe do … Continue reading Forty Five
To pen our thoughts Not for novelty nor sales Fathoming life's abstractions The roles of angels And of slaves Is this what you wanted?
If you said enough . . . UNDO Heard it all? UNDO You've seen too much . . . UNDO Turn your back to earth and lean into gravity Expansive skies expanding, enjoy the crumbs and wind in your whiskers Whatever you do before you hit the floor, do not ask for nine more
Don’t ever say You_never_told_me I was glad when you arrived So much gladder when you stayed