grey

grey the color of an august dawn

grey his unbending scorn

grey the mind that does not matter

grey another silky morn.

grey your hands untie quietly

grey ribbons that tear easily

grey the gashes healing unseen

grey the love that grew hastily.

grey every moment waited

grey every thought doubted

grey your very soul that's haunted

grey your brown eyes are painted.

Puppets.

You scare me with your silence. I could shake you, slap you, put you out of your misery, carry your tune in my step or hold you till my breath dies . But you wouldn't feel a thing and I'd die if you said something after I've given up for this one last time.

A Hundred Times

It happened so quickly. Pressed against the wall, your hands locking me down, all I saw was a blur. I could hear you take short, sharp intakes of breath while I dared not even blink. Your eyes burned into my bowed head and I fidgeted till you quietened me the only way you knew how. You leaned in until every inch of me acknowledged your presence. When I finally looked up to meet your gaze, you slipped your hands into my hair, softly stroking them and I died for the hundredth time. You didn't stop there though, oh and how I hoped and wished you wouldn't, and you didn't. Your lips nudged and teased my earlobe, traveled down to my neck, licked the entire length of it with a slow and deliberate trawl and you stopped right then letting your lips rest on my nape, while you let me catch my breath for a moment. Your eyes shut tight, you had your lips pressed hard against my skin, waiting as I made up my mind for the hundreth time but only this time this wasn't a dream. And it was with that realization that I sank to the floor, but you stayed there, watching me bite my lips in confusion. What happened next, I won't ever understand, but there I was on the stone, cold floor with the man I had hopelessly given my heart to a hundred times over, disappearing into the glowing dust that danced in the faint afternoon light.

And there I was waking up from a dream I've just about escaped from a hundred times and more.

Words

they come crumbling off the pages

spilling more than what I can hold

forming puddles of reflected light

that splash out into the receding memory

of your flight.

leave no trace in the wind, nor in the

breath of the lover left to revel in his

all too heart wrenching, solitary existence

bereft of encircling arms and comforting hollows

of warm flesh, that could speak to him in even

the deepest sleep of the darkest nights.

come unasked for, like you. A pulse that quickens

with every premeditated typographic flourish of

your everyday babble, can only take me so far as the edge.

And then there's a slight push, that comes gently

from a gaze that flickers with the afterglow of electric

backlight, that I can't see but imagine, till it awakens

a response.

possess moments with startling vengeance, hiding

them from us in layers of glorious, seductive, infinitely

murky possibilities and we succumb like the

house of cards we are, destined to grovel

at their feet until we may utter them no more.

Muse

Between your conscience and mine

lies bare the deluge of soiled clothes and karma.

Sunbathing in the light

of coldblooded sin, pleading

guilty of love and nothing less,

truculence as addictive as soap operas,

I spread my legs and you, your bashful acceptance.

She comes and goes. Chapter 4

18.11.2010 Thursday

She could be dead for all I know. Where oh where can my baby be? I have spent days at my window, patient as a rock getting battered by the sea, but she comes forth not. She must have dissolved into the sunlight like a singular golden beam that looks to stick itself to others of its kind. Where are you, my Lo? I long to put my pen down and go back to the window but I must not. Documentation is important, they say. The medicines they give me keep me from doing something stupid, they say. But there is only so much you can say before it stops making sense. I might have taken a little too many of those little, dull blue pills. But that was only to make HER come back. Why won't she come back? I might have freaked her out. She might have seen me. In fact, I think I saw her look right into my telescope one evening. Her white dress was swishing against the pale white floor and she was dancing slowly to a song I could only conjure in the darkest of my midnight dreams, but there she was ambling, shuffling, floating, gliding and then just like that, she stopped and turned to look me right in the eye. I almost fell out of my chair but she looked away then and continued to dance. Maybe she wanted to get away from my omnipresent eye and she's gone - gone sailing into a sunset haze that I can't follow. These meds better start working now. She's not going to come back now. I know. She's not coming ba