The moon is awake and you never will be
I lost the most important piece of me
In the lowest point of feeling
I know I have to keep pushing
There is no song or lyric
Nothing can cure it

In a world so populated
I sit here with myself
And I won’t lie, I’m more afraid to cry
Who’s gonna wipe my tears

I wait for the call that’s never calling
The letter that can’t be sent
You were my lover, more than a friend
Yesterday I could of sworn I would hold you until the end

Why did you go, why did you leave
Without me…
I’m here, you’re not even there, not anymore
But pouring out of my soul

I've been cheated
I've been robbed

What is the matter
Of being
Fat
Black
Gay
Nerd
Different
Or what else?

All you can see here,
Are just Black and White
But you can still see
the beauty
inside
of these group of clauses

And I still can see,
I will always can see
your inner beauty

From those words you wrote

he thought of moving it
out of sight.

disagreed, like to see it there
now, remembering.

see the reflection in the light
of my torch after dark.

the shape leaned against
the wall, the space in the shed
where it used to be.

we tried to give it away, no one
wanted it.

it has been a while.

sbm.

'Cut, cut, little scratch. I wonder how you got attached. On this skin so red and clear. Like everything could disappear.

When the darkness has fallen on you. When the silence is becoming true. Then you grab your little knife. And cut, cut to come alive.

Then the voices in your head. Were getting silent instead. They did not know what to do. Without that body of you.

In the night sky you lay there. Under the white sheets without air. Forever shutting your eyes, dreaming of yourself in heaven skies.

As you fell asleep and finally got rest. Now they'll know they got your buttons pressed. Though little sister blames it all on herself. Cut, cut, little scratch.'

softly. it moved.
seen from the corner
of an eye. crept
round the edge,
looking.

slid round the door
and out.

i feel it lives
in the shed.

sbm.

one slip is all,

one step too far, the
world turns around .

no control, no eating,



disorder abounds. watch
the ornaments fly, we feel
like alice. one minute turned
to weeks, and wish we had
our camera to film the scene.

these are indeed the falling days.

i am not broken, maybe cracked.
if you read me, you knew
that anyway.

sbm.

surround this area,
live inside. loving
lamps ,damp autumn air.

shadow,               films
with out words, stuttering.

moths, yes i usually write
of moths, now long legs
come into play. outside

planes fly over, estuary
birds call. autumn.

sbm.

homesick for the little things-
a hello, for instance
-how was your day

can i just say-
small kisses
would go a long way
towards improving
the manor

i remember when-

i remember
small kisses
in a friendly manner-

granted
and planted-
and love mattered.

r ~ 9/24/14