We'll be even

I am never everything all at once
and when I'm close to falling
I thought you could
wrap your arms
under mine
and hold me there for a while
if the heavy gets too much
and I am tired.
If that means I am weak
then I am powerless to change.
I need you
and that's what is real
for the time being.

This morning I thought

I have taken all the words you've spoken
and laid them in lines along the floor.
Rearranged each one
and moved them
next to a word they'd never seen before
so that you finally would have said
what I wanted you to since then
and the day could start differently.

It never worked

I have sat in the corner
of what is quiet
and watched,
still,
expecting those I hoped
knew
to know already
for longer than half of my days
and I am tired
and it isn't working
and I am lost
and out of ideas.

Idiocy in times like these

Foolish is the man
who uses a needle and thread
to sew imagination to truth
until it drapes from
one end of his day to the other
and hangs heavily over
all there is
until one doesn't exist alone
and there is only sorrow
when the fabric wears thin
and his life is proven to be
mostly make believe.

With scissors I cut leaves

With scissors
I cut leaves and shoots
out of the love letters
and planted the beginnings into
soil near my home
so they'd be new
and would grow up
walls built from habit
that I have lived inside
since there was a pen in my hand
and the roots would force each brick
to crack and weaken
so I could become strong in its place
and start again.
It seems only to make sense
to do what I can
until I am face to face
with the person I would've been
had I not wasted time
looking in vain
with eyes that were not mine.

Flight 52:12

So that you know

There are minutes that
compared to those before
are lack lustre and blue,
limping sadly towards
a then that is done.
And then there are those
that are embarrassingly rich
and full
of reminders
of what can be built
when you walk forward
knowing only too well
that the balance
isn't always
in your favour.

Until then, us

When I grow up
I will be inside your arms
and you will walk me
to the edge of what I know
and paint something
new
until we are in a world
made up of what we are,
together.

An obvious answer

There must be
a family of moles
living inside where
my brain
used to be,
burrowing and gnawing
and making themselves at home
amongst tissue
and matter,
cos my head is heavy
and I feel sick
and I can't think
of a more likely scenario
than that.

Lemons into lemonade

When your body flounders
and all that you have
is your voice
then bellow
and roar
and do not be quietened
by imminent conclusion.
Let it cast forward light
to illuminate all that you never said
and bask there
until the words restore your might
and tomorrow's burden is lifted.