Winter 2007

The cold as it dawns,

Into the night as it becomes

Are you the memory that it brings?

It's dark, but for the warmth of that winter sun

When you and me, had laughed

When our dreams were together spun.

So where will this season take us now?

Where do you think will it abandon?

For lovers, we weren't ever

And yet, nothing else seems to less offend.

Sun-Drenched

Bring me the sun,

Ring it here close

So my lashes kiss its heat

So the world may singe its hold

It's alone, it's above,

What a perverse scrap of gold!

So it's begging me to bolt

So it's following through my door

Bring me the sun,

As it falls from its throne

So my lashes keep it warm,

So it gets through the cold

It's alone, it's above,

And now it's getting kind of bold

So I watch it rise as morning smoke

So I resign to getting this very old

Deer In The Headlights

I've never tried harder, never been more still

Did never speak, sought no feeling before

And yet look at me now

As I fear not the car, not even the lights

But only not getting hit, while I might still be alive;

While I might still manage to cry

Perhaps just even squint the last of this eye.

Deer in the headlights,

Oh dear, in the headlights.

A Ceiling Existence

It's difficult to word it out to someone who hasn't been there. You don't care if you don't eat, if you don't comb your hair in weeks, if you don't get out of bed. Ever. Staring at the ceiling is your salvation, but only till it comes crashing down. You hear it groan, feel it quiver. And yet when you wake up from being awake all along, it's still there waiting for you to stare at it, through it. Till your eyes shut into consciousness again, till the roof seems to fall again. You haven't seen a mirror or another person in days. The silence is deafening, the ceiling; on repeat.

Dance, won't you?