This can be good or bad. Not even God knows what will happen this time.

I've been tickled
By reality
Laughing at
my lonesome life

Good morning or mourning?

My release doesn’t lie
In the blood that stains
Your carpet,
Or the tears that soak into
Your pillow,
Or the screams that pierce
The still night calm,
Not even in the **** that
Snakes into my senses,


Wishing to melt into
Whatever I was before
Star light emanating from
Afar;


Old light pulsing from the new skies










(I want to see myself in that light
A time before I gave in to the night)

Birds drop dead at my feet
I don’t know- if to die myself, or to give them life.

Now I know that heaved wings look like
Grey snows melting into each other

Life vaporizes from the summer sky
As a wounded dove trembles in my lap