Museum of Forgetting

You say you are always changing

but you are just staying the same

radically the same

a disguised same

distracting yourself

from something

something like difficult feelings

with superficial changes

and flights of fancy

that you call freedom

but,

you are like a kite

on a million strings

trying to be a free spirit

you keep telling the same stories

over and over again

the same story about yourself

as if it were a little white lie

you were desperately

trying to convince

me

and you

of

and all the rest is a coverup

as if you won't let the water settle

long enough to see your own reflection

in case you see a tear in your eye

that you will never be able to wipe away

Secret Sins and Shames

Thoughts like fingers

slip around my brain

as if trying to find a grip

on something

infinitely uncontrollable

like life

trying to find anchor in open sea

like the open sea

between you and me

that is never constant

and never sure

just ordinary and ambiguous

and it scares the fucking shit out of me

and I am longing for dry land

and solidity

under these feet

that are weighed heavily

with secret sins and shames

and ordinary human failures

that I don't allow myself to make

Little Bastards

Difficult feelings

growing inside you

like unwanted children

gestating in the darkness

of you

like little bastards

tormenting you

with their presence

you would have them aborted

rather than birthed

ripped from you

before they can learn

to speak

and form words

and express what you

dread to hear

Please Come Back

Sometimes the stresses you thought were big

are ones you would beg back

now that you are armed with hindsight

and ready to tackle any other problem

than this

any stress other than this

because even problems with solutions

can have a legacy

that never goes away

because these histories

are being written with every yes and every no

and every I don't know

and every maybe

and no-one is outside of the writing of these stories

there are no outsiders

we are fully participating

even if your head is in the sand

where you would like to stay for a little while longer

Time to Go

Remember those days
When it was time
To go
To go home
But you weren't ready
It didn't seem like
the right time
And the
Car-ride home
Was long and heavy
With bitterness
With grief
Sickened by the cruel reality
That time flies
When you're having fun
There's just not enough
Of it
Not enough time
To get one's fill
To get satisfied
To get full to the brim
And
That winter
Seemed like the
longest darkest
Winter ever
And it seemed
Like there would never
Be another circus-tent
Or another moment
You would wish would never end

Little Drunken Moments

Little drunken moments of meaning

appearing like a mist

over a barren field

a haze

offered like a sacred space

for feeling to run abundant

and uninhibited

like the

circle formed around a fire

that spins an intoxicating story

when we allow ourselves

the impossibilities

of freedom, truth and greatness

when we feel like the otherness

that is cut into us like a scar

is more tangible and real than our lives

then the morning comes

and the mist dissipates as we wake

into the more redundant world of sobriety

but wouldn't you rather die free

fighting for something impossible

Take a Deep Breath

Take a deep breath;

Take a deep breath
And
Jump
That's it, 

ok
I can do it afterall
This is the hardest part
This has got to be
The hardest part, just
Take a breath

And

JUMP

I won't know
how it will feel
If it will end in pain
Just break me up
Bust me up
But not kill me

Ah shit
Just take a deep breath
And
jump
for fuck's sake
Jump...jump...jump

...

And in that moment
A vision dawned
That life and death
Were twinned
Joined at the hip

And with lungs filled full
Possessed not by reason
But by the fool
In me
Exhilarated by a possibility

This

The first freshness
I had felt in years
I was here
I was here
And somehow

The longing for an ending
Gave birth to a beginning

And I felt the
Spectre's touch
Slip around me
But not
The touch of loss
Not loss any more
Gentle Nihil, tender Nihil

Nihil

For soul's too sore
For hearts
that once on sleeves
were worn

Before
connective tissues
torn
Before
we tattooed
our souls
with incantations
and vows
that no more pain
would be allowed

And bridges would be burnt
And no more
Lessons would be learnt
Except
Numbness until death
Numbness until death

But then
I felt Nihil's breath
Now 

a subtle whisper
melt
the dark magic
of my vows

And ask
That I have faith
That the ordinary
Will be enough
If I'd just take

a deep breath

And

Jump