The snow's falling.
Slower...faster..hurricane.
Led by the song of the wind.
Faster. Slower...Stop.
Gosh, I wish you were here.
The snow's changing.
Pearly, white... innocent.
Silence in a hurry without a worry.
Light, whole, covered.
Oh! I can almost feel your warmth on my feverish body.
The snow's hiding.
Always. Awaking. The silence.
Nostalgia comes to life.
Over. And over. Again.
And I'm still yearning.
This isn't at all what I had planned
I just meant for it to be a small thing
I never wanted it to be this bad
The winds have gone from a gentle breeze to a thrashing gale
The rain has opened and is pelting the ground
Nothing ever goes to plan around here
It's always best to believe the worst
No luck will be found here
Just a confused expression sitting upon the ledge
I thought I had everything under control
I though all the cards would play out right
But this isn't what I have planned
I can't imagine life without it though
When I was your child I learned
The saltiness of my own tears, I knew
Which hours of the day
And night
We're best for me to be invisible
The answer was all of them
And so I became invisible, the best
I could, but somehow I would always find a way
To instigate and provoke
I was just a blip on the radar with
A thousand other blips
I must have been the biggest one
Or the smallest, because I could never
Quite hide well enough to stay unseen
I was different
In some unfathomable fashion
The wind whispers
Sweet nothings
In my ear
A silent lullaby
That wages on
Silent tears stream
Down my red cheeks
A reminder
Of the bloodshed
For a moment
Everything stops
And I hear
The wind whispering
Beckoning me
Into the storm
Silently, carefully
In The moment she went, my heart broke in 1.000.000 shards
The cold Autom wind crawled through the holes in the facade into the small, dark room, whirled up my orange curles to a tornado and then disappeared with the remnants of my heart into the empty of the night.
If I'd really wanted to, I could have picked up the shards and perched them together .
But why the effort?
I haven't felt anything for a long time...
At least not until I met her.
the ocean
was more
than a dream,
it was a place
she needed to visit
to find herself.
and when she returned
to the city,
you could see the sun
in her eyes, the wind
in her hair, and taste
of the infinite salt
on her lips.
you've been stuck in my mind like a song,
your name going round and round in circles,
something else too...
something just waiting to be said like it's the first time,
I love you.
I'm impossibly in love with you,
it's the sort of love where I can see a future by your side,
not a childish naïve kind of future;
no, one where we struggle for months just to move in together.
one where we get married but it's simple,
extravagance isn't our thing.
it wouldn't be a fairy tale it would be real,
we'd stress over the messiness of pets but not give a care at the end of the day,
that mess and the re scheduled dinner dates is what I want.
I don't want a dream I want real life,
she said nothing
leaned on the stone bridge the wind
howled in my ear, pause
between the dropping
of the record & the music
dust the wind the streets
already in shadow
we walked someone
playing the piano in a tiled room
oh
said her mother a
mister dante called you
beatrice
String
Puffed by
Imaginary wind
Ribbed with notes
Takes on flesh like water
Says, "See you later"
Through the window of the door
Popular sentiments pull through
And survive the past
Tall buildings
Make themselves comfortable
In the lump afternoon sky
And church music
Softly walks into the mucus
In northern Michigan
the sweep of winds
forces the spread-winged goshawks,
shredding their grasshoppers,
to sit in the shade of fences.
They eat with easy purpose,
watching the white smoke
of men hunting
the flying birds.
O bury me not in:in the little room, like a worm in a one-by-one
padded & colorful, far from the madding birds ---
O bury me not in long unrequited dreams
O bury me not in the margins of identity, voiceless & meaningless
O bury me not in 'September Songs'
in offbeat secret memories
behind the veil of pride, under vanity's shawl
Are all the days the same in December
Are all the days the same at noon
Are all the days the same in the night
All the days are the same in never stopping
All the days are the same to wake up hope-short
All the days are the same day-over-day hobo wardrobes
Are all the nays the same into night, were day spread
all over the bed, all over the bedroom,
nights the
spectrum of
goods
lights
hauls fast
or it's haphazard
ground
the earth known
was a process
slow like stars
burn
a good while
bulldoze
clear
floors
some of the land to the wind