He was right
When he wrote

“Tomorrow
And tomorrow
And tomorrow
Creeps in this pretty pace
From day to day
Until the last syllable
Of recorded time…”

Every moment drags
Like an anchor
Across a sandy bottom
Slow yet finding no purchase;
But he was wrong too,
Because a lifetime
That takes forever to cross
Can pass on the blink of an eye
So slow and so quick
Rarely is it… just right

Try not to write about the heart

For fear it awakens from slumber

And speak not of fear or anxiety

Lest they take root on the tongue

And spread like a virus to others

One must keep one’s tastes bland

Hide the spices in the pantry

And remain content with absence

Just breathe and stay silent

Because when no one moves,

No one gets hurt…or so the myth goes

fear takes a hole
you might stumble into
ands digs it deeper
to the centre of the earth
then sneaks up behind you
and pushes you over the edge
making you believe
that as you fall
this made more sense
than filling it in

the world is an emerald
that the sun is shining through
making prismatic shadows
bright with green and gold
as the wind sounds like sand
sliding down a cliff

i want to believe
the light that shines on me
is real
and the sun didn’t burn out
8 minutes ago
that the warmth sent my way
is genuine
and not the figment of
a desparate imagination
slowly freezing to death
in the chill of a world
absent of all the good things
that once brightened his way

but i know this –
a man tends to believe
whatever he wants to believe
despite the consequences;
he shuts his eyes at night
and pretends it’s still the day

There is a grey shroud
Covering the daybreak world
As though she is in mourning
For crimes yet to be committed
A mask of silver lace
To hide a demure face
And the swollen sky is heavy
With tears waiting to be shed
And they will either be a healing cleanse
Or they will drown us in the end

there is a good in me
i’ve tried my best to kill
but it keeps returning
like lazarus from the dead
and haunting my waking steps

perhaps i can learn
to live with this corpse
that animates my actions
and forces me forward
one step at a time

or perhaps one day
i’ll find a hole deep enough

The moon in the cold black sky
Looks like an old bronze coin
Worthless to me
Much too far away
To be anything
But ineffective
And the tides it pulls
Are not my own

there is no weight
nor pressing burden
that you can’t carry
no road you can’t drive
no obstacle that
you cannot overcome

you are strength
and abiding love
your fire –
it’s unquenchable
never forget,
you are not afraid of anything.
you are to be feared.

Stop writing!

My god

You’re like a tire

With a slow leak;

Gradually flattening

Until you’re no good,

Just a shapeless ring

With no beginning

With no end

And no use at all.