Tag Archives: desperate

downgrade.

like a couple who grows old,
the children leave home,
and the family dwelling
is too big, too unweldy
to maintain.
nostalgia and grief:
downgrade.

like the unwilling assessment
of credit risk and consumer confidence.
black marks and a world renowned
rating scale.
disappointment and reluctance:
downgrade.

like two lovers.
entrenched in expectations
that became too big; unweldy.
a growing risk profile.
nostalgia.
disappointment.
reluctance.
grief.

downgrade.


home.

will it be warm,
but just cool enough?
to lick
your cheek
with the missing breeze?

will they cry
when they see you?
returned bruised
and tired,
and her eyes are different.

will she fade
again; a breathing ghost?
like all the times
before; a sobbing,
decimated tree log.

will the bites fade
before they see?
where pain meant
a relief and a fuel
to find home.


mute.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard
you might never
forget.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard,
you would see
it never ends.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard,
you would never
understand.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard,
you would wish
i never did.


bandaid.

it’s like, this pressure
and the inevitable
disappointment –
both his and mine –
somehow worthless;
yet when i look,
she is no more
intriguing or attractive.

can’t eat, want to sleep;
can’t dance, want to die.
the mirror mocks me
and the pressure builds;
more powerful by the day.
“i like to fix things.”
please stop trying
to fix me.


too.

i missed you
for a moment
too long.
and my eyes
stung
with grief.

i kissed you
for a moment
too long.
and my lips
stung
with your words.

i loved you
every moment.
perhaps it was too long.
because now my heart
is torn
and broken.


feast.

cold and hard
triumphs
of cunning
proportion.

timely and tired,
purple perfection;
meet me
near the bridge.

fallen feasts
trust me
with their
treasures.


empathy.

i read it
again,
and i felt
her pain.
i could feel
the grief
and longing
for finality.

rising up
through
my lungs
and pressing
hard to crack
my ribs.
a deep wound
still weeping.

it doesn’t die.
“i wouldn’t
leave a note,
but i would
leave this…”
i would still
walk
and fall.


you knew.

i think
he knew
in the end.
and you
knew,
too.

it could
have been
poetic
and neat
all at
once.

a tidy
date,
time,
location.
before the
phones.

before the
phones,
and before
the sun
lights the sky
too long.

i think
he knew
in the end.
and he
knew he couldn’t
stop me.

but i asked
if they
could just
trust me.
and you
did.


zinc.

everybody
is looking
for it;
they talk
about it,
yearn
for it;
waiting
desperately.

and some
find
satisfaction;
not in truth
not in fallacy,
but in
a mystical
world of
fairies and trolls.

others
are content
to labour
on;
blind yet
comfortable;
still seeking
but only
sunshine.


ghost ii.

the air
was thick
with wilful
deceit;

the truth
was black,
hollow, yet
sweet;

the longing
was heavy
and
draining;

the metal
was cool
and
dense;

the grip
was tight
with straining
ligaments;

the ghost
was tracing
her bloody
veins;

the mirror
was wise;
she disgusted
herself.