Problem With Average

Come take a walk inside my head. Stay if you like or don't.
When the empty shadows
slide into the failing sky,
I fall more and more
into the moon.
The shivers remind me
of the lingering winter
that still grips at my soul
with clinging fingers,
when the nights are long,
each one a pure and painful bleeding.
But the chill passes
like a transitory ghost,
like footsteps across my grave,
and only soft whispers remain.

giraffevader - There’s always a hint of winter in my heart (via giraffevader)

She took a matchstick to your gasoline heart and bridges were burnt when she left. She has something of yours, you say but you carry on to hold the next hand and the next and now, with our fingers intertwined, my feet sinking in ash, my eyes knock on your door. 

I ask again and again; let me in. 

Your voice speaks words that do not hold meaning and I am fully aware that a pair of hands waits for mine to fall. But for now the keys of a piano have found a place on my back and they haven’t been touched for days. 

For now my mouth in hushes tones, repeats your name and our synchronized breaths could make the wind chime dance, if we let them. Too much said, but not what needs to be heard and I smile with a slight ache in my chest. I question myself. Well, do you see it?

We stand by the shore, looking to the other side where the sky seems to be sinking and I know you are not mine to “fix” and I am not yours, but I stand there teeth clench, tongue held, waiting for you to face me, just once.

We’re the dancing lights
as the river flows
through the city that
sleeps softly.

Cars rush by
and pieces gravel flee
from the tortured roads.

Two drunk men
walk on the pavement,
counting lamp post 
after lamp post and we
are the ones that don’t work.

Caught sliding into
the water, moss
hiding across the canal;
a home it shouldn’t
have, and we’re
still here.

Brushing our lips
onto one another,
with the first ray 
of the sun;
everything disappears.

There isn’t space
for another in these 
shelters I create;

you’re a hurricane,
wind before the waves
and I’ve been hit.

Sirens dismissed 
and I’m screaming 
for help -

as you pull
me in.

Another night.
Another night.
Another night.

You want me in darkness.

In the dead of night, you whisper my name and I gasp. I couldn’t breathe before you and I wake up in empty beds, never quite sure of what you said, or meant, but it sprung me up anyway and now I can’t sleep.

I think about every conversation had, never had and there are things I wish I said, hidden behind terms of endearment that we speak, but they vanish anyway and I’m stuck feel sorry for myself, yet again. 

You should need this. You should need this, just as much I as I do, when the clouds dance to the sound of pouring rain, you should be there. Please be there. But the stars are out where you are and clear skies where meant to hold desires. 

With my hair entangled in the rays of the sun, my feet hit the pavement back to a place that’ll keep me; you’re darkness dear one. You never leave and the shadows call. I never could resist your voice and I sink again. 

Darling, can there be no oceans for once? Can I sleep the night with reassurance? Let my name echo from where you are. My bed stays empty, still.

You don’t need me at all.

Sing for the waves that couldn’t pull me under,
the sky saved me once and I have lived
in these hues of blue-

be a bird with healing wings and carry with you,
the heart that I couldn’t hold.

Give it away; love.

Then, we talked about how we wanted to die
and today we stand in the remains of a city
that could never be built-

I think about you sometimes when the sky 
turns grey, I’ve always been attached to clouds
and you wanted to fly in them;

I wanted to jump in the sea and
you, taking in your last breath with a 
cigarette in hand.

I guess you fell and I disappeared like 
smoke; both still alive.

Find a New Poet


I repeated 
Repeated the same words
Words in a different order
Ordered differently 
Differently enough to hope
Hopefully convince you
That I’ve changed -
I haven’t.
The meager poetry
Of a meager man
Can scarcely touch upon
The abstraction
Of the effervescent radiation
That from your soul
Emits warming rays
Harmful to the unprotected
And splays strands of intangible
                                   suffocating beauty
around the neck I stretch out for you - 
The neck I stretch out for you, around 
The differently ordered grammatically sound
Unprofound varying inflections and lexical 
Choices that such a meager man can not make -
I have not changed.
My words have not changed.
Find a new poet.

A thousand dreams within me softly burn:
from time to time my heart is like some oak
whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.

—Arthur Rimbaud (via viperslang)