In evening twilight

everything shrinks, the street noise  --


the houses, myself.

the scars that skies paint,
on my face are stains,
that i preserve to show my soul.
i am a sucker for strong ffelings,
that often weep and get back up,
to paint colorful billboards in slums.
eyes are just nomads, they only see
the flame that is burning but the flame that's gone
is stored in aphorisms that mother's read
to their children at night, hoping
god will save them, from all above and below.
i seem to find solace, in tying up my body, using words
as knives that tear apart organs piece by piece.
it is better to die in honour, than masked radioactivity,
consuming you, like water in an ocean, like glaciers that do not want to melt and yet are subdued.
how long can someone play hide and seek, how long can u seek
shelter in the reality that often hides it's counterpart.
are you trying to smell the rose, or sacrilege the thorns?
these days will only end, in disbalance, like the ticking diving and
crashing of all the times, where forever was a noun in dystopia.
just stop listening, and start absorbing, time has lost it's crown,
humans have lost their endeavour, and
the only way to be truly sane, is flowing ever eternally like
the shape of water, succulent in all forms.
we are not one but many, scars that will draw out roads for us
to follow, roads that will lead us to meaning to we caanot comprehend with the five senses.
nobody is ready, nobody ever was.
tell me, how do we mourn such a privilege, one we
cannot touch, or feel or sense,
because what lies withing is forbidden to all of us,

i found the most solace
in the mornings
as the sun covered the sky
and the evenings
as the hours of daylight dwindled

these two moments
slowly became
my only
reliable constant

the only thing
to accompany
the darkness
that engulfed me

Stars spark from a deeping, clear, blue winter sky as
the moon prepares to enter the scene, stage left.

A breeze sweeps away the last blushes of sunlight and
evening caroling-bells, ring like wind-chimes.

The evening chill makes students walking back from
classes seem to walk a little closer for warmth.

Students, huddled to nail down evening plans seem to smoke,
like the exhaust of cars exiting campus in bumper to bumper traffic.

Wet sidewalks, like dark and winding mirrors, twist reality, inverting
and reflecting lights - bending them into pointing the way home.

You're the reason
I get up in the morning
It's not just
For snoring
It's cause I love you

You're the reason
I go home
In the evening
It's not just
For sleeping
It's cause I love you

I'm yours
I mean it
Cause you're
The reason

The reason I get up
In the morning
And all through
The evening
It's because of you

The rising water is unstoppable
no matter how often it breaks
into wide waves on the beach
The sun is half an hour

above the horizon, hand in hand
we walk in blowing clothes
into our evening off
My hair dances

In the boat at the end
of the pier we kiss
like teenagers, the water sloshes
and the sky turns orange

With my own eyes I see
the sun set, tack-sharp
and I can only think
that the earth ends there

as a worldwide disk
with an edge, an abyss
in which the red-hot sun
briefly blazes up the fire