Tea (day 2204)

Make me reel in your sweetest tea
I hear scarlet raindrops
Opening every door so tenderly
Saturate my safely laid plans
With incandescent luminosity
Breaking my lucid dreaming
With delicate fingerprints
Dancing faster then I had imagined
In a gallery of ancient symbols.

Don’t Cry Father (day 479)

Without words there are no places to fit between the spaces that occupy the recesses of this lucid destined body
The examples of torture don’t phase thine countenance for they wreak not havoc upon the brain
Sure, in the sweet of night nestled amongst the cute lovers sleeps a sound, resolute companion
But the sounds that spread outward from the turmoil keeps even the lifeless awake at night
Perhaps it’s the bitter truth that doesn’t comply with the answers that have fallen into the cracks
The same cracks which have begun to play upon the misfortune that crawls out of the drainage pipes that lay rusting
Lack of use caresses even the sweet droplets of dust that dance around every corner of the damage
Don’t cry my dear mother, the day had to come eventually even if we wanted to abandon all that stinks of the truth
Don’t cry my dear lover who swirls around the nights thoughts with a magic only fitting for a witch
Don’t cry father, sent away is the bitterness that never had a safe storage space in your towering cabinets of force
And onwards and upwards the sands spin and roll and create new spaces in the holes that have been abandoned
Despise the coward who among all whispers and shouts at the same two demons, unable to answer his own requests
Rest now, in this sweet night that nestles itself amongst the cold flaps of a long draped winter jacket
Rest dear lover on the sweet thought that one more day shall come where only the good times will pass by your mind
Fear not the answers you have known the whole time

Silken Sheets (day 428)

That night as the warm wind blew through the unsettled windows
Driving armies of little prickles down the side of my exposed legs
Drawing warmth from the naked maiden, eyes closed, semi-lucid
But the myth of time that ticks silently on in the blurry distance
Calls out names that ring familiar through my ears
Itching at the lost memories that shan’t return again
Smiling at the pure maiden of the sweet summers night
And knowing it won’t last much longer in spite the desolation it entails
Grabbing hands tear at the strings laid upon my back
And I sit back down, resting my frayed hairs upon the silken sheets