Youbuild worldsbreak wallsbend timeto be mine
A Drowsy Kind of LoveThe night is quiet with your sleepingaglow from the heat of your dreamingas I gently nestle against your napeyour mouth ever so slightly agapewarm breath suffusing my wakefulnessas my fingertips linger on the surfacesthat soak up my nocturnal restlessnessand gift me with a longed for repose.
The Year AnewNight skies twinkle with the fire dust of pyromaniaas we down liquid gold libationsto inoculate against another year.
A Silent NightIt's quiet this Christmasno snow on the ground,the rain has stopped fallingand quiet is the soundof my heart as I lay sleepingdreaming you're awake,covering me with kisses--such sounds that lovers make;I am thankful we're togetherthough tonight we be apartfor tomorrow we meet againand love will fill our hearts.
Creationme here .. you therea doorway doth divide us--yet our hands move in tandemand strangers can never fathomhow the art we make unites us
AwakeInsomnia rends the night skywith dreamsof daybreak
Stay the NightSleep, my perfectionand I too will shut my eyeslike the moon mourns the light of dayso it can slip awayinto a union with the sky.Then the stars will wink at us from above,privy to our not-so secret love,and our slumber will resemblethe softest of waves as they tumbleinto each other with unbridled joy.As chilled air seeps into our shared dreams,we will nuzzle up and burrow deep,inhaling the scent of the freshly launderedbefore the hours are quickly squanderedby a sun that swiftly draws the night away.Yet fear not, my lovefor we have learnt to allay the dawn--when it cajoles the night to retreat,we smuggle the stars in cottony sheetsand covet the moon with our kisses.And the night will never feel as youngas when our bliss has sungthe lyrics of a life now lived as one.
ReunionI used to howl when twilight descended;my muse a yellow orb leading me--my guidepost in a sea of darknessso black my heart turned inkyfrom disuse.My paw prints created paths of dustand my tail swept them cleanas it hung so lowto match the bellowin my heart.The stars could not quell my yearning,which twinkled faintly till morningdrove me to fitful sleepingand the dew gathered like tearsweeping on a dull grey coat.Then, when my desire to live subsided,the sky at night turned lighterand my eyes gleamed brighteras winter carpeted the land in flakes of lace.And I heard his howlingeven before I spied him lollopingon banks of snow and ice,his hind legs carrying him to mein powerful long strides.Winter's embrace never felt more bracingthan it did that fateful morningwhen our noses met in a moist reunionand the skies turned a soft vermillionas our hearts finally intertwined.
My RewardYou are my quest--that beckoning in my RPG called lifethat detour from what I have charted.But the game was not wonby my following the trail of crumbslaid before me;the game was over when I met youfor I wanted to play no more,wanted no part of this existencethat plodded on with no investment of passion.There was no levelling up in my world--no little man in a suit and tie to save meto bend time and slow motionto piece together the puzzlesthat would lead to my happiness;no dark soldier swinging his oversized swordbattling the demons of emptinessto salvage my loneliness;no tiny robot fuelled by a loyal heartdoggedly searching for his true lovein a world of discarded parts.In a massive universe of multi-playersbattling the futility of existenceto attain an inscrutable treasure,I found you--a gem in a village of clans,a clue to lead me forward,an option when I had so few--for youare my extra life,you filled up my health barso I could break freefrom this endl
We all are beautiful!We all are beautiful!The problem is on our eyes!
Authorshipyou’re the authorof this story - and yetinsist on playingthe role of a foilwhen you couldrewrite the pagesas you wish.
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
spaceshiptwoWhat's leftafter the explosionare these suns,a faint projectionfrom an unreachable darkness,flickering.And then everything is simultaneous;the entangled mess,the crowds.*And maybe it's all about editing and being edited-The pilot painted across a desert,A desert painted across the pilot.*Or the holographic drift, a surface reflection-The expanse outside echoed inward,Jagged orange treelines over the firefly black like someone holding onto a woman(or the memory of a woman).*Or maybe just the T.V. relayas I struggle to sleep,the newscasterfrom both dimensionsglowing and whispering:The horses of your apocalypse/the apocalypse of your horses.
glass in the throatthere's something about thathollow quiet in the nightthat bite of airbeneath the clouded moon:something like calm words,falling through the gapsbetween stained teethsomething like a dull thud,a stumbling fawnbruised by a wheel.something about thatclinging crowding darknesssomething likea sweet invitation:prey on us sinners,now,at the hour of our death.
Fixing the damageYou feel damagedAnd brokenJust like meBut togetherWe can change thatWe can fix each otherSo don't give upWe need each other
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead. It isn’t true. It’s said the stench of hell infects the earthand healths of heated blood are downed. But Hamlet lied. The dead know nothing, the living less. There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
AloneI look aroundI see peopleYet I'm aloneAlways.
I don't like cooking!I don't like cooking!
My BabySerene in your slumberyour eyes like twin commason a face that tells meyour heart is happy.And I glow inside.