Stolen Moments

She kissed me lightly, Hidden behind smoky airs, Beneath blood red wines.

Yesterday Never Ends

What I would not give,my dear,To spend another day,right here,Knowing yesterday never ends,with you,And that tomorrow never comes,For you.

Guilt, not Regret

You sighed when I spoke last, Kissed me coldly, with pity, And with a caress of my cheeks, You leave. But never gone. You linger on, A faded memory, A phantom pain, To be carried by me, always, Because I cared a little too much, And you never really cared enough, Or maybe it was …

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Godless Porcupines

I hope there is a God,Because I need something to hate,For giving me the capacity to love,And for recognizingThe feelings you cannot reciprocate. I hope the Devil exists,Because then surely there is hell,For if there is no purpose to my pain,Then it follows,There is no end to end well. So I lie awake every night,Cursing …

Game Logic

It is our curse to rise again after we have fallen,To commit to the agony of reliving day after day,How many times have I died, only to wake once more?But giving up is an anathema -Aren't we trained to move forward,And grasp for the next reward? Endure. Struggle. Live.

My Muse Chuckles Darkly

Roused I from a dreamless sleepless chill, Summoned to the study, cool and still, to find my patron sleeping deeply, poured over cantos stolen cheaply, Cobbled by whispers of ancient lore, Having discarded me, long before. So, having loved him, rob I his sight, Allow him to dream of endless night, Perhaps the Dark Stars …

Warm days in the Midlands

Four decades have passed,Through storm, fire, disease, and drought,The maple revived. Shady reflections,Passing atop tall grass seas,A moment's reprieve. The buzzing of bees,And the rustle of petals,Make me long for home. Distant music plays,Voices call from the long past,Summer has begun. An old cat lies down,Languid eyes close for some sleep,Just another day.

Alone on January 2, 2012

I took the train out from North York, staring at my phone and the last three messages I sent into the silent, digital maw. I bit back bitter tears, thinking that maybe I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... with the wrong person. Luckily, most wrong places have train stations out.

A Prison of my Own Making

I stopped this morning, All the thinking.Gulping air with sightless eyes,The constant bell-ring in my ear,The stabbing knives in my mind,Slowly faded.In my thoughtless breath,I rode free from the flesh,Beyond the blood running hot,And the thousand-thousand thoughts,Coalescing into the mortar-mess,Mortarium,That cages my feverish consciousness.

Sweet Summer Rain

Passing through the thin membrane between Spring and Summer,It is the change of the air,Heady flower musk turned intoxicating,So the rain, heavy rain, falls hot and oppressive.It is the Not-Winter, the thick fecundity of Life,Darkening the air we breathe,Damp and threatening rot,So rains come with the intensityOf an ancient inquisitor,Washing away the filth,And with it, …