In progress

It's been ages since war or peace,
In a place where the soulless sleep,
And the empty beds of children
Go cold in the view of the moon.

A Lover's Insanity

I've stopped and started
Too many times to pretend
It was just an accident.

Finish it now or finish later,
Pouncing on the words of love,
That always flee from my grasp.

Répétez, répétez s'il vous plaît.

---

There is a ball
Of all your affections
Growing in my throat
Threatening to choke
the God and the Devil
Out of me.

No Passion

There is a blankness expanding inside me. I can feel it pushing out from under my skin and I know that I won't be able to hold it in much longer. I'm bulging all over. Taking in gulps of air quickly keeps it contained a little. I wonder, though, what am I supposed to do with all of it? I should scribble it in with lines of black ink. Oh, but how tiring that would be to complete. What about adding some color here or there--some glitter too! Hmm, a big red button might look nice. Some silly string and dry pasta. Glue a feather or two. Yeah, it's hidden quite nicely. The damn cheap glue won't hold for long though and the ink I used wasn't that bold--no. The glitter is getting everywhere and then again it is quite hideous to stare at. Shit. Shit. Shit. Just a mess. Directionless. Fuck it.

Morning

A strange thing it is to be missing Morning from your life;
I've forgotten what a Morning looks like.
It's not that I refuse to visit
I just can never find the time.

Though, I'm sure Morning is doing just fine.

Home

I haven't been home for ages.
I wonder if my door still squeaks when it's opened
Or closed,
Forsaking all my efforts of walking on tip toe.

Indifferent

Keep your glances for another time,
Please, collect them for me.
Embittered gazes
On display in glass cases
In groups of three.