I’m not quite sure

who I am.

The login to everything is the same

the books I read are still in place

the places I have been, plain.

The petals around the bud

shine bright

but they wilt away

as the sun abandons.

The simple resolution

would be to move and align

once again

with the sun.

If it was only

that simple.

The other side closed its doors

shut me out and won’t

answer my calls.

I need for them to

open

the doors. Starving

and drowning in

magic’s blood.

Let me in

I can’t survive

too much longer

on my own.

Talk to me, like I

am the last person on Earth

through an endless Spring. 

Change comes with time,

but we remain the same.

Nights filled with cold air

crawls between our legs.

Change comes with time,

we want to remain the same.

Can cover it tonight

but will rise tomorrow.

We share this Earth

with our demons.

They are our neighbors

at our barbecues on lazy Sundays

our weddings

and funerals.

They will be here

long after we are gone,

this is truly

Hell.

Staring at a blank page

for hours. 

Making words out of

blue lines

deep feelings 

between the lines

and nothing comes out. 

Claritys cost rises

and words

escape. 

Safety’s collector

comes knocking,

run. Run

until the blue lines

fade into red

and write. 

The oars turned at the pace

of the drums.

The beach sand was warm

between my toes.

Can hear the singing

fading into the marshes

the sound of gun fire

crying

and gun fire.

My brothers and sisters

fighting in a war

my war.

Can’t sail to battle

with holes in a boat

and only a single

oar.

The jab from the past

we see from a mirror

our past self holds. 

The hooks from the 

dreams and the nights

we sat a lone with a lone

forty wondering where

we are going. 

I can handle those, 

been the punching bag

for years. 

Nobody

can knock me out

better then

myself

I was there in a dream.

Walked an island of light, 

drank from a sconce and

kissed an angel. 

I’ll wake the next morning

walk passed this threshold 

and find the door

the stairs

find this island. 

It must exist. 

I was there in a dream

but

I never left. 

If that isn’t life

she told me. 

If that isn’t just

second hand down

rolling around

flying, 

yes flying,

till sun goes up. 

She was high by that point. 

I wrote that down

in my journal

I think about it every time

when we are apart

and hope

she is still flying.