Burnt Out

I turned on the sink

when I went to take a shower.

Put a spoon in the microwave

for five seconds at full power.

As a child I had ambition, wide eyes and a fearless vision.
Now sitting in my kitchen as the microwave smokes I’m thinking maybe,

                                              I need a change of pace.

A walk instead of a run, sunglasses instead of sun.
Because somewhere, I forgot that we all get overdone.


The Summer of the Humming Bird

In the summer of the hummingbird, 

I could sit on my back patio swing

in the early morning sun,

and watch two humming birds

dance atop a sugar feeder.


The copper lighthouse swayed 

with soft winds and

the cherry nectar drained

while the dancers drank the wine.


They chirped and hummed

along to the morning birds songs,

and the hot sun bared down as it grew.

And we watched in awe.


A violent hum in the air broke 

when the dancers parted ways.

But we refilled the golden feeder

and the lovers returned each day.

Good Practice

My darling,
I don’t even know what demons
your drowning in your drinking,
but it’s left me alone and thinking
with such tragic sinking feelings,
that I’m concealing from the world
in my own bottles swirled with ink.

My darling,
The weather for tomorrow is a
steady cast of showers that they
say will birth the flowers in my
heart, but I forecast an overcast of
grey and cloudy pencil shavings
shading the sky from light to dark.

My darling,
The fear I find in freedom it follows
feverishly in my dreams, and
delicately woven it seams as if a
monster were screaming talk to me
talk to me, and in a way it seems
that if we spoke for just a moment
our severed searching souls might
sleep soundly and serene.


Subconscious Worlds

Sometimes I hear things. Not like a crazy person, but somewhat I suppose. I know why, and exactly what I’m hearing though so, not at all actually. The fan in this room has a sound, a white noise. Well, with my head at the right angle, I hear almost another layer of it’s sound. I know though its just the sound bouncing off the wall to hit my ear drum in a way that creates a localised echo. Like an extra windy beach whipping around in your ears. I like to imagine that it’s some music of my subconscious playing louder than its headphones can contain, or the sound of another universe drifting over our own, but I’m a little crazy. But really, when sleep deprived, who isn’t?