Poetry

This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.

  • The place where the sun is merely a star in the neverending night sky and the day an unfortunate interference with the cold places of the mind

    When looking up and seeing the wonder just feels like another long cold day where nothing will continue

    Trying to keep the face on to ensure no one knows and when you reach your arms hurt held out waiting for a hand

    Where the skies could be cloudless but the storm in your mind outshines the sun

    Forgetting how to feel joy in the day

    Feeling entirely all alone

    Waiting for a patch of blue in the patchwork skies of a place so dark and far from where you want to be

    I’ve been here so often

    Can I be your light when the sun doesn’t shine?

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  • I danced through the forests

    Howled at the moon

    Felt you on my face through

    The moon’s sun’s light

    I want to reach you

    To see your face

    To speak to you with words

    Unmeasured

    Tones unpractised

    Whipped about by the currents of

    In the moment with you

    Please look at the moon

    The warm chill of the light’s second light

    If I could create you a moment of peace

    It would be under the light of the full moon

    Glowing over English Bay

    Sitting on the swing on the beach

    The water calmly lapping the shore

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  • Gliding like a bird through the air

    Even when you falter the grace is clear

    The beauty of the form of a human being flying

    And with such guided perfection touching down as if hands are what lifted you from the ground

    In your face is a kindness and serenity I’ve never seen.

    I hope you always believe in your heart that you are the beautiful being you are

    Prince of the ice.

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  • Matchbook promises and needle thin pages

    The pen pierces the paper

    The ink leaks into the page and spreads over an old empty space

    Pouring into time the moment the paper was no longer perfect and the second the pen soaked through

    Ink like tears and words unsaid

    If the memories are terrible who will be near when they get me?

    Birds float through the sky

    But the feeling is always there

    Bubbling under the paper skin

    Covering up from within

    Telling tales of stories of the soul

    Like a silent promise

    Like the ink as it dried

    The paper is beautiful even once dyed.

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  • I have been an inconsiderate person

    I have been a bad person

    I see and recognise the parts of me that I don’t want

    I wish I could take actions back

    Estranged was only supposed to apply to one person

    I am still afraid of

    But I have made mistakes and pushed people away and

    The actions that I made didn’t speak to the person I am I did things without thinking

    I wish saying I had no ill intent would erase the things I’ve done

    But just as apologies it doesn’t change how others have been affected

    Looking through the glass in moments when I wasn’t thinking

    I think thinking too much makes me blind in other ways

    Even in screaming and reaching for help

    I should take the people I’m reaching to into consideration

    I should always be second to the person I am speaking to

    I should always remember that

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  • Black lines on the windowsill

    Up and up and up

    What not you did you want to feel like I wonder

    I’m still not sure where to go but I know I started to miss it

    I just wish you wouldn’t hate me

    Just like I miss the stars in nights I don’t see them

    I get this yearning just to hear

    I know the song I’m searching for isn’t out there yet

    And I know you don’t think it’s for me

    But I still listen

    I still try to pry apart the pieces to see if I missed something

    I don’t know what I’m searching for.

    But I don’t think I can find anything

    That will change my heart.

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