I stand at the window
staring at the rusty leaves
as they spin in ever widening circles.
Just above my lawn
they are dancing with the wind
but my thoughts are miles away
with her
and the argument.

A battle waged long distance
via the telephone
she has cursed me
and hung up
has said we’ll never speak again.

Then suddenly the cell,
still in my shaky hand
rings out her reconsideration
and my train of thought
is blown away.

Just like those autumn leaves
caught in the strong gusts
outside my window
beneath the cold, grey sky.

-24 Sept 2016

Dreams are cruel illusions
that trick the mind at night.
Displaying either fears
or wishes in your sight.

I can’t dream lucidly.
I am never aware
when my logic is trapped
until day in a snare.

No matter how insane
a dream’s setting may be,
I’ll believe everything
my mind has to show me.

For years, I dreamt of love
so sweet and beautiful.
Just two against the world,
a bond not usual.

In those dreams, there was bliss
as we stood united.
Before the kiss I woke,
love still unrequited.

Dreams are cruel illusions
that toy with all your hopes.

Once, I dreamt of a man
whom I’ve seen in this place.
Something about him leaves
a smile on my face.

I got the courage to
ask him what he thought of me.
But before he answered,
daylight set my mind free.

Dreams are cruel illusions
that know you’re curious.

Often, I dream that my
Grandfather is alive.
To speak with him again
for two years I have strived.

As I meet him again
he usually says,
“I just went away for
a while, I’m not dead.”

But then our time runs out,
and I’m alone in bed.
I think of him often,
and the kind things he said.

Dreams are cruel illusions
that remember your loss.

As I get out of bed,
I go on with my day.
But deep down in my mind,
the sadness and pain stays.

Yes, dreams are cruel illusions,
from them we cannot hide;
for your dreams must reveal
all your troubles inside.

Just wondering if you compare her to me
Like I compare him to you
Wondering if you revert to bad habits and bite your nails
Like I pick at the scabs on my arms when I think of you
Wondering if you buy her that same perfume
that you loved on me.
Wondering if she reads you her selfish love poems
and wondering if you hang on her every word
Wondering why I can’t get you out of my head
Wondering if you even wonder about me at all
Do you remember it the same way I do?
How we moved too fast and scared each other
How after we separated we ran as far away from home as possible
Wouldn’t admit that they were right about us.
Honestly they didn’t know anything but the lies we told them.
You were the first real love I tasted
First real war I felt inside
First time I saw a soul ripped out through the heart
I made you crazy
But you drove me insane.
Then again this isn’t about the fighting,
though remembering it makes missing you easier.
This is about the sickness I feel when I think about the horrible things we did to each other.
The lies we told
I’m sorry for that
I’m sorry thinking about you makes me want to be medicated
The idea of us meeting again is a trigger I didn’t know I had.
The idea of seeing those eyes, those lips…
God, your voice…
For a moment I’d get lost in you again, I know it.
The way you smelled after you’d walk home in the rain
The way tobacco didn’t taste so bad to me if it came from your lips
The way your laughter infected me
I’d think of the ways you used to love me
I’d wonder why we ever strayed so far from love
Then I’d remember
and I’d suffocate.

They were merely a gift,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
Everyone made fun of them,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
Yet, she wore them,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
She danced day and night,
In The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
As the months passed they began to fade,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
They hung on the back of the door waiting,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
Then one day they were removed,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
They were put into a cardboard box and sealed tightly,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
They were packed for quite some time,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
Finally, the beams of sunlight warmed them,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
They were taken out and put on display,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
Everyone who passed stopped and pointed in laughter,
At The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
For some time, they were never worn nor touched,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
Until one day they caught the attention of a mother and daughter,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
The mother picked them up and held them,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
She showed them to her daughter, but the daughter refused to take them,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
The mother told her daughter that she once had a pair of them,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
As the mother looked closely at the shoes she remembered something,
About The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
She pulled back the padding inside of them,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
Engraved inside was the name Lacey, A smile formed on her face as she held
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
She knew that they were hers, and they had come back to her,
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.
She then looked at her own mother, and then at her daughter,
They smiled and nodded because they knew that they were hers.
The Little Red Pointe Shoes.

I find you in fleeting moments
mostly
when I lose myself and
then you are gone behind your mask.
I find you when I go to pieces sobbing and broken on my
cold bathroom floor.
I find you all those long ago nights
when I danced in warehouses with euphoric abandon
in ecstasy’s warm embrace.
You were the faces in the crowd
and me
when I was far past gone
and standing beside myself…
I find you in when I’m vanished in a song
front row
facemelting  icecreamed
or in my bedroom silence
glimpsing eternity in the now.
I find you when I have no words
as the light bends
and wraps itself
around the Shaman’s song.
You trample me savage one
tear me open
tenderfrenzy
slay me laughing  thrice born one
crush me                           like grapes underfoot
bleeding vine
mirrormask
You whisper in my ear
that the sun is nothing more than a star
in a sky full of them
and                                  I am born again.

What would you do
with a ghost in your room
who never came out
when you asked him to?

Would you coax him
and call him
and ask him to leave,
while he sits in the corner
heckling your pleas?

Would you light up some incense
to scare him away?
Would you call out his nonsense
on another day?

I think he would like that
a little too much.
Considering he’s see-through,
he might want to touch.

Just give him an opening–
give him a sign–
and I’m sure that everything
will be just fine.

Then again, I’m not the one
with a ghost in my room.
Don’t turn around now:
He’s watching you.