I never understood the reasons behind my choices
Nor could I even hear the voices
They cast like

I think what killed me the most
Was when you told me
In your own words
That my words meant

the devil lives in the desert
he drives a big black cadillac
covered in the ash of sinners

Footsteps on dry autumn leaves approaching,
Frozen, can't move, can't see a thing in

From her pain she can no longer hide
The darkness has set in
She has lost all hope in life
Now

Do you see her standing beside you

No you don’t, because she’s gone

You let her slip out of

this is cold

this is a rash, remorse, ice pick,
biggering, getting bigger

this is small

I think I’m having a moment of clarity…
Fuck
I think it’s more like a moment of insanity
My mind

Perhaps I am not the model candle,
Smooth flame burning brightly and dependably
at the window,

Here I search for words of beauty
to balance dark with light
for it seems to be a poet's duty
to

Notes flying in the sky
can only be heard by birds
They in turn add their songs
Bees not buzzing;

Lighting a candle
I peer into darkness

The pain I feel
is a messenger
it tells me

Icy roads, cold winds, darkness
Determined to return regardless
A light shining, flying before,

At the morning purple high hint; birds wake up first. Phrases are born somewhere between voice of

No sunrise or sunset to admire
only colour is gray in abundance
Hunting for light in open fire,

When the sun shines on the snow
When all the birds chirp in a chorus
When I don't know the answers

00616
let me take your hand
and try to understand

why the sun ignores you
but the moon talks

the beach is dark at night
you could walk out into the sea
if you wanted to

the beach is dark

I'm drawing inspiration from the negative,
my attention biases towards certain phrases,
they leap

Early hours of morn
raindrops scatter in the wind
blend with warm teardrops
in darkness; not a

It's getting harder to remember

what I was like

before I was damaged;

before you tore me

Flames are lightening the room
in rainy day darkness.
The cold wind goes through the bone.
Now

Sunset fires earth's cheek, a blush
less permanent than rose madder

giving way to deeper shades

Can you imagine the stars
without the vast backdrop
of deep black silence?

A poet is willing to

Imagine.
I see the hero-figure/ hear the wind on the window/
Feel it cold on my feet/ I’m

quarter past nine at night
an audio click
and then darkness

the display on the clock has