Today I stared into a vast and dark yet shimmering infinity, and it twinkled back...
Aren’t we all just looking for someone we can bare our soul to with the hope that they won’t just slam the gate in our face...
Kiss in the morning,that was just for luck. Laying here with you, can’t get enough. Stay here till sunrise, just lay in this b...
Did you know that a sound will exist forever?
The sticky syrup juices of our dreams swept down the naked mountaintop plateaus that ribbed against the sky as though someone...
On some days it feels like I’m made up of nothing more than half-remembered facts from half-skimmed articles...
And I made my home in the little question mark at the end of love?
You took my breath in September, my thoughts fogged over so fast. As the seasons kept on keeping, found myself seeking for...
There exists a longing in my heartfor a moment that once was. Though trying to wind back time is fruitless, I still try to just...
There is a pain somewhere — I don’t know what it is, or how it is, or why — so I run. As though the miles of knee-splitting pav...
Feeling so wanted, warm fuzz inside.Peachy touches, and longing sighs.
I lay there tracing butterflies in the small of your back, thinking how someday maybe we could fly.
She tangled me in half baked conversation and the smell of her warm hair, till somehow in my disoriented reaching...
You are a “creator” you told yourself, but a creator of what?
I know it’s bad luck to call after someone, but I wanted to. I wanted to tell you that you took something that didn’t belong to...
We met in a temporary space, a scaffold of time and conviction, held together by passion, and desire.
You hoped to find yourself here on top of the world amongst the clouds and dragons, the mist and the mystical...
The fog spiraled up to the heavens whilst the mortals on earth watched in awe.
The headlights cut though the fog like twinkling diamonds in a silky smooth palm.
Where do the words that come pouring out my pen reside?Which hidey-hole do they peak out from, at high noon on a clear sun day?
Slicing across the landscape, careless, careful — alternates. Head out, drinking in the sights, so much to take in...
Time. Something fundamental. Matter loses state on timescales bounce— solid for a minute, liquid in a millenia.
Sunlight bursts across the landscape, like patchworks quilts of happiness.
How I remember your breath — throaty in my ears soft on my neck, the pitter patter dance of your fingers in mine.
Melancholy moments mushroom into storm clouds on the horizon — desolate.
In our brief candle wick moments of heaven and hell at play...
The forgotten man, remains forgotten, while a confetti carnival, of byway promises, blows by his rampart...
We fight bitterly about the past while the future recedes farther and farther away from us, it’s light dimming with each breath
Hurtling towards you, like a moonbeam cross sunbelt...
A wisp, a trace, you’re gone.
Like airplane wake in a deep blue sky.
2AM is not a time for lovers.
Inside the dust trapped fibers of a pillow made in China.
Who could blame a songbird for singing? Who could blame an angel for flying away.
The feeling of your feet grinding me into the ground is still better than no feeling at all.
You whispered it in my ear, short, throaty, the most meaningless of them all.
The city hits you like a trainwreck on fire.
And I sit here thinking how a life can be summed in three words or a novel.
Aging with the seconds that are never returned.
Into the sunset, poetic, while I made my peace - with the moon.
I don’t know when I realized that it was all just figments.
On and on into eternity.
Thunder rumbling like thoughts unsaid, left for times that were never to come.
...drunk in the scattered, sliced sunbeams, drunk in the timeless nostalgia of the moment, drunk in the emotion.
He slowly unfurled his fingers, breaking their vice like grip on the rock face.
We slice through the gates of heaven back into plain sight of mortal ground.
And wish will I with a heavy heart, that time had spared what will now, always, be apart.
The definition of success eludes me, much like the feeling Itself.
The way things are, are not the way they’ll stay.
There is no subtle crunch of twig underfoot, no loud clashing of a pan being dropped.
...of arranging words on a page, of choosing from infinite divergent branches to create one whole?
We press onwards through the day, no wants, no comforts nor fears.
You choose what you give your power to, give your power to where you are.
Fear of failure, of the unknown - as old as life itself.
