She thought to herself,
"What if I am tired
Of living in a dream.
What would it be like
To wake up and
Everything stayed as it did seem."
She needed light
For that was the way she dealt,
Though truly she felt
That eyes look more beautiful
In the dark,
For then you can not see
How much they lack a spark.
The more of herself
This moment is taking,
Inside she is surely not making
Anything worth keeping,
Only a future that is breaking.
The thought of this
Always leads to her shaking.
Will they ever come back to this place?
The light shines now on a figure
She swore she could trace,
Which she knows will ruin her heart,
Yet she loves the way it makes it race -
How that beating-heart of hers
Rushed swift like some
Rachmaninoff Concerto,
How that mind of hers,
Waltzed around the room,
Not-knowing where to go,
Into those arms, and just
Linger there like an overnight
Stay at a luxury hotel,
And she will go and come,
Like waves on the naked shore,
Swelling toward tenderness,
The sun is forever orange there-
Now the figure is in focus,
Rushing her off her soles,
She never asked where -

- Lola Rose & Jamie F. Nugent

Please teach me that
Things are not always bad.
Please teach me that
Our endings won't
Always be sad -
Help me find warmth
When times are cold -
Tell me a story of hope
That I have never been told,
Turn my rusty heart into gold -
Stay sitting still my little silhouette,
Just let me convince you that
It's not time to go home yet,
We'd be each others' shadows,
Even in this pitch-black night,
We'd be those people that we've
Only heard about,
Who'd had each-other to hold tight,
Help me to focused my heart
As it were a telescope
Catching the light of your galaxy,
And to fit it in to this puzzle, my counterpart,
For we shall always and ever have hope,
More then enough to fill a sea -


- Lola Rose & Jamie F. Nugent

Physically falling apart
Like pound shop Barbies do
After a touch too much -
Love letter paper cuts
Juxtaposed between
Some sordid sore fingers,
The scarlet blood that gushes
Brilliant like a sun-set,
Twitching and gloaming
In, our and around
Consciousness like it is
Revolving door,
Spinning,
Spinning,
Spinning
On ballerina feet,
Turned pink to scarlet,
Made misshapen
By dances
Of rapture
And grace-

-Jamie F. Nugent

It's always  
so vacant
It's always
so empty inside,
When there is
plenty, and
When there is
plenty to hide -

I love you,
but
sometimes
I mess up,
clasp onto
Apologies
that fit
in a cup -

It's always  
the exact same,
When we (again)  
play this game,
like puppet and
puppeteer,
There's no winner
(or loser) here,
just an imperfect
trifling heart,
Then we go  
right back  
to the start -

-Jamie F. Nugent

You are the Dove,
My thing with clipped wings,
I cannot soothe you from confines
That are interposed around you and I,
I surrender and crumble at your feet,
Under love and love's weight,
This avalanche falling into place,
Creature that can't leave -

You are the Swan,
Fleshy feather-breasted thing,
My crept-up companion,
Tired and ridiculous,
That badly mistook my nature,
That chewed me to the bone,
And stopped when I became bitter,
Creature I left -

You are the Hummingbird,
Gorgeous and fragile,
My unfamiliar hand when yours gripped,
Graciously showed me up the staircase,
At the foot, we stood on the flight,
And subsided to where we'd not be seen,
I could quite touch you from where you where,
Creature perched atop this heart -

-Jamie F. Nugent

We are two Manet portraits,
Hanging in a Parisian gallery,
Expect I think I might be a forgery,
Only worth my frame,
I wish I were the real thing,
But instead, I am just
Your fraudulent imitation,
But I feel fine by your side -
You are Berthe Morisot,
Holding a Bunch of Violets,
And I am the Boy
Carrying a Sword -
And down the hall,
A da Vinci dissipates,
Oh, joy for our youth,
And at the other end,
A Warhol silkscreen
Waits in adolescence.

-Jamie F. Nugent

A breezeless kite,
On the beds edge,
Daydreams in a coma -
With Jazz
For my ears,
And jelly
To sweeten -
All my guts
Spilled out
Like sour milk,
And my thoughts
Filled up
Like some closet
Of old cardigans,
Woolen, soft
And ugly
In this dead heat -
And somewhere
A cardboard-town
Is falling apart,
On top of itself
In the rain -
Oh, what I'd give
To be a supernova
Or just a kite
Flying in the breeze.

-Jamie F. Nugent