wake

i've never started a story
knowing how it'll end.
i rarely take steps
knowing where they'll lead.
i don't smile
expecting one in return.
and i won't ever
ask someone to change.

life is what it is.
and what will happen will happen.
i will go where i go
and always end up
somewhere else.

i pray no one is hurt in my wake.

here

this path has lead me here.
where to go now ...
to the right is the sunrise.
an open path
blinded by sunlight,
but the breeze carries promises
of possibilities
and tomorrow.
to the left
the woods
carpeted in blinding fog,
the residue of yesterday,
but in my gut i know
that i'll still find my way.
this isn't lost;
i know where i am
and i know where i came from.
i just don't where to go from here.

circle

circling you
encircling me
together we dance
this dizzying dance.

i will hold on to you
until i let go.
your hand will grab onto mine
and then let it go.

face to face
eye to eye
cheek to cheek
and then we're spinning away again.

i am so dizzy.
please let's stop this dance.
circling you
encircling me
i am ready to stand still.

broken window

it doesn't matter how many stones i throw;
all the windows are broken.
let the bulls run wild,
let the rains come down,
let me remember what it feels like again
to be me.

these windows have been broken for so long.
i tried to hide them behind the curtain,
until yet again
a stone i threw.
instead of a crash
there was silence
because i have thrown that stone before.
and why fix the glass
when i might throw that stone again.

swing

how do you know
what's real
and what's not?
where
is the
telltale marker?
cannot accept
science's proposal:
chemicals
in the blood
make me feel this way.
cannot accept
religion:
the one
true god
has a plan.
like a swing,
i'm here,
i'm there.
today and tomorrow
i am
everywhere.

sleepless

tonite it rains again.
the drops are loud against the window.
some of them land on my head.

nightfall

at night it rains.
every night,
it rains.

it is unrelenting.
it is consistent.
it is soft.

and then
it stops.

just.

like.

t
h
a
t
.



.


.
.
and then it starts again.