burial rights

don't make a noise
don't make a breath
the funeral
in our bed
is finally underway.

arms wraped around ourselves
we knew it was coming
but i didnt know
the moment
would be
so..
tragic?

don't move an inch

the silent wall between us can't
budge
or fall
around the false hopes we
carried once

and all at once

it's lowered down
the desire
and the willingness
will mingle
with the bones of our
false intentions
and there we will
rot

don't speak
don't breath
and shall these
bedspings
nary squeak..

the funeral in our bed
is finally
underway.


still

i am still here
being ignored
like the wallpaper
sighing out the window into
hopeless
emotionless
light of day

i am still here
staring at the skyline
waiting for signs
and multitudes of forgiveness
for yet undone deeds

and love
that too..
love.


cycles

it continues
the sky clears and gives
new meanings
without its dark deep cloud cover

i step out onto the wooden planks
and feel the warmth of the past
within them

out beyond the trees and fence
they are out there

and it continues
until it is right
until it does not.



tenderly


I tenderly see you thru watered down eyes.
Watered with alcohol and blurred with smoke..
and with the jazz behind you
you move in scarecrow patterns
in front of fishtanks with worried
inhabitants that
flee even with the click of a lightswitch.

it is tenderly
i wonder what it like
to sleep alone
night after night
among your carefully placed things
rows of white toilet paper
dustless corners
and shelves of books..

your airconditioner humming alone
and the birds making nests in your trees outside
my flophouse sleep bed I hastily
fall in..

i see the motivation in your pictures,
aligators
and a lonely sock at the side of the bed.

but as much as my heart desires
i somehow only catch glimpses of you
tenderly.