And indeed, 

the seasons will shift once again,

Yet,

that one autumn leaf, 

will hold onto the branch,

with all its might,

Awaiting the breeze,

to carry it away.

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There’s an art 
To letting go of something
You never fully held
Refilling the glass
That is your heart

Why do these thoughts
Always cut so deeply
They come in such vivid
Shades of sadness
I can barely breathe

There’s an art
To navigating 
These troubled straits
Letting go of past lives
And vanished friends

There’s art
In the way you choose
To love
And in the way you choose
...

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You know what’s funny? I was never allowed to be angry. Not outside of my head, at least; the only place I could truly be free from you- except I wasn’t. You live there too. You live in the poems I read on stage, you live in boxes of our favorite candy, you live in the echoes of my mother’s voice, and most of all you live in my mirror. The one I look at because of you. The one that you shattered a...

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It’s the weighted chest pain

That’s hardest to explain 

The interwoven, the lingering

It spins a web across every day

It’s the fog you learn to see through

Because you can’t get away 

Never the needle in your eye

The thorn in your side

It’s the routine of soft pain 

The clingy sting for life 

It’s the dull ache

Freedom, but on a leash

Your mother's kiss with tee...

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Gritting my teeth, I can begin to admit
I have been struggling
In the first half of this year
I got bruised by my own undoing
Whittled so brittle
On cold spring afternoons

And you have been a salve
The gentle warmth of a grounded voice
Through cheap headphones
Brimming with sweet greetings
Quick with earthy encouragements
Easing me down cracked pavements

Your presence, your message...

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This sadness, I call it Dune

a mound of sand that forever blows into my life

looming, vast, over my head.

Its eyes, lazy and ancient

at times watch me with strange fascination

a forgotten masterpiece in a deserted gallery.

 

It calls, heedless of the hour

its scream a dull thud that drenches my heart.

I shrink, writhe, and wither

a forgotten lily

dead before its ti...

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A figure slumped beside the road, a heap of ash and thread. No face, no shape, just heavy cloth, and eyes that looked half-dead. “Who are you?” asked the wrinkled one, with voice both calm and kind. “I’m Sadness,” said the shape, half-formed, “the one all try to bind.” “They turn from me,” the figure said, “as if I bring disease. They smile too wide, deny the weight, pretending th...

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All I hear are elusive echoes of self-depreciation and hatred. 

Tracing my memory back to precise occurrences of emotional distress and pain.

The nature of numbness bouncing through the walls of my mind. 

Will this arduous voice ever be silenced? 

No one knows better how to get under your skin than the mind enclosed beneath it. 

We take on the role of nurture or torture whenever we ...

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Another spotlight, make the headlines.

A final shout-out to the ranks of the-do-fine.

Did I make you stop and think?

Now looking down… from the look down,

me and every other ghost in this town

who couldn’t live life on the brink.

 

And I say - hey. There’s got to be a way

for everyone who couldn’t be.

Yeah, I say - hey. There’s got to be a way.

Gotta be a way… for m...

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As months chased after years, your waiting neared the full ten-year mark.
Have you ever prayed long into the night, only to weep when your prayers go unanswered?
Has the inability to reap the material and spiritual rewards of your efforts ever weighed like a stone in your chest?
Sometimes, a person feels unbearably heavy, as if tons of burdens rest upon their shoulders—
the weight of injustice...

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Toys, mugs and letters dress this stoney garden

In lines that would not impress a cold, gnarled sargent

 

Stones stagger around like crooked teeth

Adorned with names, chocolates and festive wreaths

The view is long, sprawling forever

Lost but knowing in its endevour

 

The living are still, smiling through their solemness 

Clutching Birthday cards with Christmas sadness

...

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