sleep now

Grief is


to exhaustion


written in

I can never be a pilot

Nor an astronaut

I cannot dredge the seas

Or climb the mountaintops

I cannot be a surgeon, nor a soldier

Will never be allowed to hold death in my hands

But I can be a fighter

And a lover, and a writer

I can breathe the oceans and sail the sky

I will always see the heights if they’re set under the right guise


the only thing i need to live the world





There is such a strong memory in me

concrete and water

the buzzing of the trees, the steaming of the leaves

i can feel the rough-stone against my hands, the wet bricks lapped by endless sands

the tumbling shadows through the branches, currents caught by the wilder-man

i hear the scraping of the twigs, the breaking rustle of their twins

no one can remove this energy

from me.


i still pause every now and again, shocked

that anything should give me hesitation.

it still doesn’t quite make sense that

your unhappiness, even in the midst of my anger AT YOU,

should move me with such alarming strength.


never before have i been

unable to withhold reconciliation;

it was always a move of pity, never

one of love,

not like now, where my heart crumples if i cannot end the stony silence

and hold you.


We are all strong in our memories, coiled up within us

Dreams of daylight, power bleeding from the scratches in our vanity.

We are all certain of our humanity, cutting corners at the table

Wreathed in flame and laurel

Dismissing every weakling that would grovel for a meeting

Drunk on power until

We are stumbling in the dark, screaming for the light

Tripping from the pursuer, frightened by the sight of truth

We are powerful until the dark strips us of everything and we weep, broken, in the shadows; children


the night.


Every time I close my eyes

I see her body at my feet

Lying crooked in the street

Gurgling breath, begging me

The other prevailing thought…

“Her old hands were so soft.”

I hope you are okay. I grieve for what

Happened that day.


For a while, there was no breath
Only a buzzing numbness in my chest
I could not expand my lungs, I could not deign to sigh
There was only the ache and a drowning behind my eyes

For a while, there was no rest
Only a tossing-thrashing-missing of you curled up was left
I could not turn away the grief, I could not move through the rain
There was only the sorrow and a drowning in my brain

For a while, there was no light
Only a cold and taunting blackness that expanded in the night
I could not face the shadows, I could not tame the screams
There was only the agony and a drowning in my dreams

For a while, there was no respite
Only an endless loop of your loss that plagued and scratched and bit
I could not last a day, I could not be strong without you
There was only the missing and a drowning of the truth

After a while, the healing started
And I could move among the broken stars.

I began to breathe and sleep and eat
And while the missing and drowning remain in part
They are not the only presence; nor the power that, absolute, reigns.

I miss you but you’ll never leave my heart