Fated

I look at the stars
and they make me cry.
They tell me a story of how I’ve died
many times on many nights under their fading starlight.

I take a carving knife
to my body, to my coffin,
to separate the grief covering my skin.
I feel there’s so much longing underneath.

I look in the water
and I see no face.
The waves offer me a warning coming ashore,
of a love that will die
because I’ve no hands it can hold.

fragments [4]

no one ever says anything to me
the clouds, they run
the rain, it falls
a voice I wait for, it never calls

no one ever says anything to me
seconds, minutes, hours go
the routine, only my body follows
the longing, only my mind knows

no one ever says anything to me
the heart spindles its dreams,
destined to die as they are born
the heart, it writhes because it’s torn

no one ever says anything to me
even if I cry, even if I don’t
even if I try, even if I talk
even if I’m running, even if I’m home

Bemused

The dreams I weave inside my head
Devour my days
I love you in ways
I never can standing before you.
See me behind the mirror
I quietly say
As you look at yourself
I am a doll you fashioned
With your own eyes and own hands
And I dance,
Not to the melodies you play
But to distant symphonies
Inside my head.

I Wish

I wish to write of love
I am afraid I won’t stop
If I start
Do I know what it is?
I cannot say if I ever walked its fields
If I ever saw its sky, breathed its air,
Felt its ground beneath my feet.
Yet I wish to write of love
I am afraid I will stop
Before I can ever start.
How would I write of feeling
A world I have never touched?

Misty Months

On a narrow asphalt road
As I drive
Under the dimly-lit street lights
I call back memories as the night falls
Of times when I was alone
As I am now
Quietly gazing into the shrouded tomorrow.
A streak of light to rupture the dark
To start a heartbeat stopped.
Years go as I grow,
All is the same.
The light never came,
Beloved, long-awaited
To open its mouth & swallow the shadows.
No matter the road I take
It is all the same.
The shadows, now companions of old, still remain.

Synopsis

If I am lost
It is because the hand
That guided me knew not the paths.

If I am hopeless
It is because the well of uncertainty
Is bleak and bottomless.

If I am dreaming
It is because life is tantalizing,
Unsullied, when woven in the ether.

If I am angry
It is because my dreams
Become blighted by the tyranny of living.