They hung around her like flies Too young Too alone They whispered
I can describe a rose in 12 petals
I feel more at home among the trees, As though my body yearns for grass against my skin And leaves around my soul. Like a weed pretending to be human- Growing in the wrong place- Prickly, green and funny shaped And looking for something to uproot me. So I'll keep pressing flowers between these pages,… Continue reading A weed pretending to be human
We're just two lovers sitting in the park, Waiting for the end of the world. We do not rush- No, instead we linger, In earthy stillness, Just to see if love never truly ends. We watch the grass dance with bumble bees, And the wind play with shadows; All is quiet, until I lean over… Continue reading Just two lovers sitting in the park.
A spider lives on the moon. She spins a web between the stars, Weaving lines of silk against a dark, summer sky, Like spirals of beautiful things cast around the world, To catch the lost souls left wandering through the night. A spider lives on the moon, And I think she's lonely; Lonely up there… Continue reading A spider lives on the moon
My world is made of paper, A drop of ink for a soul, An ocean lies within my heart; Waves of words to make me whole.
Oh, I long to talk to some old lover's ghost, To learn a little bit of what it's like to fly with angels, So in love you think you see Heaven. Oh, how I wish to see looks of love and malice- So twisted and rotten that I can no longer tell the difference- Hatred… Continue reading Some Old Lover’s Ghost
You'd be a fool to think Heaven and I are close. I may be one Hell of an angel, But don't let these white wings fool you- I am but a dove-feathered raven Flying far from grace.
This place is full of ghosts. They exist in the gloomy light of Corpse-coloured candles In those dark cottage walls, Lingering with a ghoulish fondness. I find myself drawn to remain also. Perhaps these melancholy ruins offer More than fear; They invite somber reflections- Reflections of the living as well as the dead- And I… Continue reading Pleasantly Haunting
I'm brooding over a mug Of black coffee at 4am, Trying to warm my cold bones And broken heart... Oh please, I drink green tea After my morning yoga; I'm about as happy as it gets. Unfortunately mountains poses And sunrise Don't sell quite as well As moonlight and despair.