Contained

Can I count today 

as lived? 

Having slept all day

and in and out 

of layered dreams 

and lost in endless mazes

cut by opulence and escalators

just a floor above the squalor

of that place with no way back.

I finally call you 

knowing you'll just laugh: 

she's lost again: 

My mind is sorting 

being just like 

any other human  

with a phone.  

Leaves

We leave  

and then come back

living the same story  

with completely different eyes  

I can say the same thing 

to you at dawn  

and then dusk  

and you will not shed 

the same tears twice  

Forgetting

There's the beam 

of sunlight  

thrown across the floor  

and then there are the

days where I can barely 

wake up. 

And I wonder how any of us  

can navigate these fragile  

vulnerable  

states. I breath in  

whichever thoughts show  

up, forgetting I'm the one  

who let them in.  

Forgetting that we have

the choice just to 

watch.  

Forgetting that  

we are not  

thoughts. 

Roots

Today 

something broke  

that I've carried  

from all the way  

back at the start  

I stopped hiding  

what's real

what is mine 

and stepped out

on the edge of

a solid dark earth  

the landscape had changed 

as the sun dropped just west

and all I could feel

were the roots. 

Story

I've lost 

the way  

as if I had direction  

to begin with  

I guess that's the first  

story then.

And  

I can live with that.  

Finally

Nothing fits 

here and I fall behind  

looking backward 

imagining that any life  

lived bloody and whole  

must be better than this  

half light. 

Then I find my feet again  

and stand in the center  

of the circle  

let the 

phantoms dance  

away to 

wherever they  

came from.  

Not mine,

not here,  

and nothing  

catching me

this time.  

Who is wearing black?

In the space  

of waking and forgetting  

the lines are lost  

I know I dreamed of your  

dying

and I looked on

the rest broke up and  

faded away

and who was wearing black? 

what were we looking for

i know you called  

out of no where  

and I am out of excuses  

Lost

I still search

for meaning  

in this chaos  -

a red line,

stories converging 

in the center  

of the fragments  

seeming empty

void of life  

in this trance  

of disregard  

for gods sake  

wake up! 

Sleep

Home  

slowly coming back

alive

not sure where I've  

been or how I got there  

but I sleep the deep

sleep only ones own

bed can bring  

Flight

It used to not phase 

me to be up here  

maybe we all feel it 

the collective unease  

of being out  

with our small box of things  

suspended and alone  

somewhere in between  

maybe we were all just naive  

but the shadow has fallen

and we can't put it back  

Purpose

I carry with me  

What you've given  

things I cannot name

or know with words  

and I am bound 

to you with time  

across all space 

and as alive as when you  

felt this 

vague regret 

the consequence of simple acts  

of speaking, breathing,

being

black veins course

beneath the earth   

but in the light of day  

all is quite well. 

No, I will not

end this here

it's just not done  

I will make sure the fight

is won for all of you  

and that the darkness  

ends with me.  

To this I give my word  

I guess this is the 

purpose I've been  

Searching for.

Okay 

then  

Time out

I've arrived 

here not sure  

why I came  

It's not the best  

condition for a trip

I've searched so long  

then given up

and now I guess you'd  

say I have grown tired,

ready, more than ready

to head home  

Don't get me wrong  

I haven't given up

or in  

but all this searching  

I see now 

is killing me. 

Imagine

I'd been asleep for days 

and let myself forget

how glorious a moment  

In the warm and endless sun -

the world out here

still floats along  

through yet another day

as if for now

for this next breath

there were no thoughts:

imagine. 

Still

You'd never imagined

anything worse than the pain

you knew  

until you hit 

the empty space

where nothing lives,

the endless barren roads.

You wish for rain

and grasp for words  

just out of reach  

caught back in time 

when only dawn 

could break the spell  

with pale blue

light across the room. 

So this is change  

and space  

and from this calm  

we find our way

less words

more roots  

and no less real  

Barely breathing

I am facing the wrong direction

or so it seems and so it feels  

why walk down this same worn

path of regret -

When this just is, we just are?  

boredom chasing idle dense  

confusion  

staying this time.

I suspect it's not just me,  

but that doesn't make it

better  

I thought that change was  

an answer, 

but here  

are only questions, 

scattered here and

barely breathing  

Real

I asked for a dream

to point me in the right  

direction

show me my purpose 

light the way  

and I dreamed of my  

grandfather dying  

but staying alive  

and we'd all gathered  

for the funeral  

then saw we were wrong.  

I've been reading about  

Jung before I fall asleep

and I guess he sent me

the wise old man

this archetype  

but soley mine  

without question  

and with  

caring less what  

it might mean: 

he was real to me, 

i mean

he is. 

The face of it all

In the space 

between here  

and there  

well and fear  

I speak to you  

knowing the path  

you faced

and stepping  

nonetheless  

forward  

the best you could. 

in times like these  

your fearlessness

in the face of it all

forever  

carries us  

Not our place

We can only ever 

observe: 

impossible to give what  

we've learned to another  

painfully watching them 

limp along  

but not our place to yell

"turn left" 

startlingly as they drive.  

You know they wil

just crash  

which is worse  

than getting lost  

or driving in circles  

year after pitiful year.  

Hopefully they will  

catch up

if not this lifetime

then next  

Caught

If I slept all day  

between well

and not at all

without a dream

and little thought

was I really here  

at all

or is this  

what's called

limbo

caught between  

two worlds  

and not sure  

how to make

a break  

Clues

In the space 

of what we call a day

i float like the ghost ship

we saw inching

across the horizon

looking for clues:

'Independent"

written on the side  

of a moving truck,

'lost soles'

painted

on a pole, 

two left shoes

waiting

to be claimed,

and the fog  

we had  

forgotten  

creeping in