Your life.
You are the hero.

Start from
There.

Now
Write.

Every page is
Blank after

This
One.

That is
Power.

Pen
Power.

God is a
Poet.

You have that in
Common.

A crumble of dust in your mind:
that's all I wish to be,
to move around and wander,
to fit into every unpolished crack,
and perhaps find a place for myself.
As an astronaut might feel
in the infinite vastness of space:
belittled and feeble,
but spellbound,
even in the darkest spots
that might drag him to his perish.

Water lifting sand
awash
upon naked toes
Pant legs rolled above the knee
Searching
endless beach
and scanning cloud
for signs of muse

Craving an inspiration

Gull abound
invading thought
taunting the lack of light
But
devoted bards
never rest
till inspiration corners them

Timothy at hand
garners mind’s eye
Sweet grass replaces taste of chewing gum
Then
nature's pearls
enhance the morn
Sunlight heals a mood forlorn
Gentle breeze
on whiskered face
melds with seaside interlace

Seabird songs
lift line of sight

Thought drifts out to sea

Thursday’s skyline
circles back
then dips its quill in me
~~~

the pigeons on my roof
make a soothing sound
between a purr
                    and a hum
   i like it

   the fluttering of their wings
the peck, peck, pecking of their beaks
searching for one more crumb

they keep my cat amused
   he's at the window
black tail swishing
eyes dilated with anticipation
making his small clucking sounds

cat and bird
   inches apart
one anxious for feathers to fly
the other only hoping for one last bit
of bread.

The most painful bit
Is going through my day as if nothing is
Wrong
You know me better than anyone
And it hurts that I am keeping this
Secret
Watching you do dishes
Or fold laundry and I fall more in
Love
You're my greatest friend
And my most intense
Pain
I am tragically in awe
Every single time you
Laugh
And you have no idea
That my mind replays every
Kiss
When you've most likely
Forgotten each and every
Touch
So I will not profess
My undying affection for
You
Not until I am sure
That you will feel the
Same

Inside the universal set:
Circle A and circle B;
Circle you and circle me.

To keep things easy,
we started with the numbers on the outside,
but soon grew to the small part in the middle.

That small slither
of similarity.
But the numbers are just there for
Clarity.

Not to mention circles
C,D,E & G.

But circles are circles,
and people are people.
You are you.
I am I.
And that was that.

Ashen fencepost in the sun
Barbed wire slowly rusting
Scrub grass straining for the sky
The milk cows ever mournful

oh, young robin, your daily apperance
I await
upon the rail, singing to the morning sun
and the newness of the day
stretch out your sleepy petals, beautiful rose
absorb the dew, capture the sunlight
as your fragrance lingers, for me and those
who've waited for you, from winter's night
the frozen piles that lay upon the corners
are dusted *****, the purest ****** white
melt away, to the dismay of winters mourners
the fragrance of spring, stimulates the mind
with each solo the robin sings
and each day the sun rises higher, we find
the warmth to start our new beginnings

Drug addiction killed the writer.
Long before longhand became slow talk from a slack jaw, I was closing my eyes, not knowing whether or not I was tired or nodding.

Insufflating, incomprehensible snorting, the sound a nose makes when one is in disgust. As ugly as this euphoria is, I can't stop. Or I won't stop. That is why this writer is dead.

How many times can you wake up from an intentional overdose? More than three-hundred and sixty-five. **** it, because one day becomes one year becomes one lost person that is not only insufferable, but also a person that is no longer provocative, no longer privy to a responsible privacy that every man deserves.

So, as a man loses his privacy, that which we all seek, he can only close his eyes, because of drugs or not, and hope and pray that this is the night that he reaches eternal sleep.