Evie

long distance call
drops in from Paris
she's there with friends
it's twelve AM
and Winter

I remark excitedly
I miss her
wishing I had wings
to fly there
sit for a moment with me
please
hello and a hug
from one side of the world
to the other

The Eiffel tower
she tells me she
climbed
and I imagine the view
through her
sight
but my thought is
more than the world's view
I want right now
that of you

I'm getting to be
a great painter lately
my technique
with my mind's eye brush
stroke and layers
are slowly perfecting

the longer and longer
away
the fonder I grow
of the coloured stains
and drips
still wet on the insides
of my eyelids

and I can't wait
to show
you everything that I've
dreamed of and about
you and I
Evie, can you hear me?
an echo just below

the beat of your heart
and the melody
of Paris
humming softly a tune
I miss you

Sunday

I crave congregating human contact
in that surly afternoon waiting
sitting; creating ways to fill the gaps
eying the empty strays of light

escape me does the time until
the sun's setting reminds me the hour
and paid up am I on all my change
patience; saved for spending on them

I berate myself for feeling desperate
and put the phone down again
remembering when it wasn't this hard
to find a friend on a Sunday

Tears And Terms Of Endearment

she pierces with terms of endearment
and tears fiercely roll down her cheek
and indeed you should fear loss of her love
but you only hear her pleading as meek

you reek with the stench of betrayal
and though you say you tried but can't
it fails all your efforts of redemption
and as she wails you can't wait to depart

heartless she says are your actions
apart you've torn with more than words
distaste and scorn is your residue
the more you ignore the surer she hurts

no for an answer happens to invoke
a promotion of the desperation so contained
in your both staying together despite all
the time you wasted of each other's tainting

now the stains on the bed and your palms
are puddles of spent love wrung to dry
under the weight of a river you're carried
floating away with lack of patience's tide

the words stumble out of your mouth
the last straw you draw to exit and rash
with your tongue you mumble goodbye
and you don't even know what you've lashed

but passion has a way of heating a moment
your tone is hard enough to break bones
...let alone to disown a heart

Too Serious I Fear Too Soon

I can't look those in the eyes -
the serious- for fear of what lies
I might sprout to work my way out
of having to say something nice
suffice to say they're too alike
in the way that they make contact
and I can barely handle one,
as for ego compounded so strikes

of the two: I grew up with one;
the man I knew came to his own
but her not having known before him
I'm finding little to show
in the way of warm emotions
as intersecting is my perception
of a relation so unfolded in hope
with my unshakable skepticism

but not for fail of wanting, prevail
still does some discontentment
and with entrails of guilt I pretend
to enjoy at his every mention
of him and her together
and the history layered so quick, so well
but how to tell the truth of it;
that I don't feel what it is that they sell

I time-line all my loves;
have and will there's no escape expiration
I try to turn from my foresight
the doubt of forever as expectation
but will power's only so strong
and not long before I know I've taken
to thought of possibly their love's fake
but want so to be mistaken

there's less words for affirmation
than reassurance that I can say
I hate to think I play down this
but romantic happiness is not a plague
over confidence doesn't write the same
as wistful thinking gives conscience to claim
but chained to motives of harm less their love
am I than to say all the above face to face

Tetris

I think of girls who play Tetris
and let us as the bricks lay them
so straight in line and parallel
fitted neat into each other until
so square are we that disappear
for score are points that we clear
and equate to meaning something

I find I feed my brain the bricks
in places aside and outside the game
passing buildings down the street
in the characteristics of girls I meet
but see the pace always hastens
as the next level higher you climb
no winning it beats me right down
the way you lose every one to time

I inevitably run out of ways to make fit
those bricks that are simply you and I
and as Tetris even for record high scores
for trying eventually we sour and sore
realising love has nowhere to go
but game over

For Wanting Of Winter Ways Another Year As Nears Summer's Days

I haven't felt this way
since the winter of last year
the cold and feeling old
and slowly creeping fear
that maybe you don't requite
or see me in that light
of adoration
and infatuation
that I can't help but be consumed by
and if my conscience does not lie
I think I'm falling for you again

my trying can't stop the bending
and thoughts that will not end
of me sending you that letter
outlining how I really feel
but is this loving real
or shit I'm creating in my head
happenings and conversations
things you've not yet said
about how you don't really want me
not now
just like
not then.



almost a year on
and it's nearly summer
but a fast resumption
of this sadness has landed in my lap
and like sap it bleeds
my conscience's need
to slip from Happiness' track

my plan of attack
failed implementation
I'm still as depressed
as I was both those winters
I'm on medication daily
to just stay asleep
but the cure for insomnia
seems only to weep

I keep trying to align
my eyes forward but I turn
and through a veil I write
to hide behind words
caught in the past my glance
strays sideways and sure enough
peripheral vision like a fish fails
with my sight so tunneled
my hope behind, only trails
but long lost love, true enough
still knows no fail

The Thinking Of Kissing

I was reading 'Tropic Of Cancer.' Of this guy - Henry Miller's - life and begun thinking how I'd like a kiss and Liz tripped upon my mind. I'd kiss her... Yes, intoxicated or not. Oh and how her black hair now let down unlike when blonde and brown and up! But the teeth. Hmm, the teeth in her mouth and my need for straight lines. Straight teeth. I'm sure with my lips to hers in the moment of a kiss I'd not know any different. But it's the thought of sure enough knowing that at the withdraw she'd smile and even I too but I'd see her teeth and maybe realise my smile be pasted on fake.

And furthermore, for the mistake of making an intention false, though to her sight probably nice, I couldn't suffice to feel alright. Trying to survive my eyes would stray I'm confident. They'd betray the sincerity her lips deserve. Not necessarily towards others but certainly towards her flaws. And not 'cause but for as well, there are those that I'd kiss and not let mean a thing. But with hers I'd quick mislead. Indeed at the imagining of the ordeal I realise it possible I'm just a puddle of feeling. Seething with fear of falling in love again. Can you fear an other falling for yourself?

Legit or not, I have no clear contention. But near a kiss brings me -I'm positive- to being distressed. Either for it's consequence or influence and that is for both parties. Still it's a thought that has caught my contemplation lately and in it every occasion is a picture of her and I. And I, with Time have painted it perfectly. And lock-lipped we are kissing.