I want to write ...

... Not really.

Death

Marching dispassionately, anemic, black figures.
Someone died ... I do not know who ...
Someone alone, which is remembered only when I left ...
Forgotten, unknown, nameless, without a life ...
a packer another plot in the vein ...
Addictive white powder nose euphoria ...
For a little fun ... Thing in a perfect world ...

But this is over ...
Suffered ... laughing, dreaming about death ...
And here it is in all its splendor ...
roaming with a broad, ironic smile on his lips,
In the long, dark robe ...
Took you to the 'Golden shot' ...
Suicide?
Ignorant, insecure, ill ...

Moves ...
Have been the same again ...
... I go sit on the tombstone ...
Pale, clear with his head ...
Cheeks the tears flow ... once you inject a portion of hope ...
Oh ... Your blissful smile ... and fear when you see me at his side ...
And a few words ...

'I remember you ... you death ...'

Echoes

as all the children play outside
only you count the tears you've cried
softly speaking to breeze
twenty-two, now twenty-three

everyone laughs and no one hurts
and no one stops to make it worse
the children play and carry on
ignoring the man walking across the lawn

he motions slowly for you to rise
you wait a moment and head outside
gently now he carries you away
where mountains grow and valleys play

sitting watching the rising tide
the sun comes over the ocean line
he looks for a moment at the sun
and asks you what the day has brung

the growing grass patiently waits
as you step across and through the gate
rocking yourself to bed at night
you hold your pillow ever so tight

and there is no pain or crying here
just the winter months you hold so dear
it snows at day throughout the near
but this is only a short visit here

the children playing on the lawn
waiting for the break of dawn
they form a circle and carry on
quietly listening while remaining calm

and no ones tells you not to do
and no one yells or laughs at you
and nobody forces you in or out
and nobody makes you run about

your dream stops there and you awake
it is now midnight by the gate
the tears fall down and do remain
a memory of the opposite of pain

and then you see him standing there
his hair is clean and his chest is bare
he appears to wait as you encroach
and vanishes as you approach

end.

we stood still and watched the earth rush towards us.
the train tracks looked like a ladder,
ever star a step. life stole so much.
every passing moment greeted by another. fluid
and constant motion, escaping from our grasp.
stay close, and we are time ticking. we are passion. for once,
we are not afraid.


what for, you asked. why anything.
your eyelashes spoke symphonies, systematic and it sent me shivering.
how could i be so hollow and so full? i am nothing that you are.


i've seen many dusks and few dawns.
there are mountains i hate and birds i envy
and stones i throw. i wish for more
hands to hold. i only love one thing that
can't contain me or i contain it. i feel electricity
in palms and fingertips, and it's pulsing. it's brilliant. it's killing me.
my breath is stale. i am lost,
but in the darkness you felt familiar
and i just want you to hold me for a while.

the train will swallow us, whole,
if we're lucky. look deep into the blinding
light and step forward. this is our
last breath. we are motion, and earth comes to us and we to it.
i am the fury in fists,
and you are poetry to my dying ears. together.
this is our connection. this time, we will not escape. this is perfect, this is holy,
this is beauty, and this is the end.