A Final Question, Begun

Ambiguity is the core of good literature

It keeps you guessing. I know what it's about, you think you do. But different things mean different things to different people, differently... I get off on that a bit. You draw me in Oh, the way you do Taking my very essence From between your lips Dry or wet  It's all the same Taking me down  Into you Stealing my soul Then breathing me out  Into the world I knew before Tainted now Discoloured Part of me left in there Remaining Attached to your insides Like a memory of what  Could Have Been But will no longer come to pass Go ahead, take another That's all I am to you I'm used and I love it It's all I am

Untitled #4

Blue meets blue And I stare Enamoured By the joining of the two

Piece

There is a -

Space

A void

A gap

A missing piece

As if the jigsaw were whole

Once.

I mourn this piece

For I know not what it was

Only that it no longer is.

What’s for dinner?

It bubbles away

Like a pot in the background

Simmering over flame

It’s almost audible.

Tucked away for safe keeping

In the kitchen

Boiling.

The flavours getting stronger

And stronger

Intensifying.

I can feel the heat

Rising

Roaring

It burst out of the pot

Demanding my attention.

I turn

And there’s only the pot,

Quietly bubbling away.

Thoughts confuse me

Is this right Or am I Just Projecting society inside myself Wanting what I should want Rather than what I do want Enjoying what should be enjoyed Rather than deciding for myself Should you want something Just because you can do it Should you enjoy something Just because you're good at it How do we know When we are conditioned so Taught what to want And How to feel Learning only when It's too late That we don't Have to participate When we've already run the race

Leave the past behind you

Stories from a thousand years and more Lurk behind me My back turned to the past This seems all very metaphorical Though in reality This is just where I chose to stand. Sometimes the meaning isn't hidden Sometimes it's not even there Sometimes you just have your back turned.

The rising dark

You rise again

Old friend

It had been some years since

Your darkness graced my door.

I see you have the other dark with you

What of our agreement

What of the words we spoke

Our decision to go

Our separate ways

To no longer continue our involvement.

So why,

Do I find you here

Now

Like unwelcome peddlers,

Pests.

Filth!

Ah, I see the infection is spreading already

I will not go gently

Even though you’ve come in force

We’ve danced this dance before

Let’s hope this new partner

Knows the steps

Let's start with something easy

Or let's not. I write because the words speak to me, when they come, I stop whatever I'm doing to record them, it's like possession, it takes over and I lose control. But saying that, I like to write, I could never keep a diary because I think it was too regimented, but I've always enjoyed writing, for me. It's only recently that I've let people see this side of me, let them read my thoughts, which is essentially what it is. I guess some of what I write is pretty deep, but that's because I like to rant to get how I feel out of me, I can understand it more if I can see it, like a tangible reflection. Conversely, I write some random things that aren't deep. Essays, poetry, conversations, it's just how my brain deals with life. Anyway, welcome to the ramblings.

The eleven thirty train to sleepsville via stone heart town has left

How do you feel Because I don't know how To. I want to know But Don't lend me your knowledge Just let me know, Tell me Your side of the story Don't let me in the door Just let me peek through the window And catch a glimpse I don't have the time Or the capacity For it all

I'm finding that as I get older Getting older feels divine Now I don't believe in the divine There's just no better word to describe The feeling of age in my mind Now sun is dead ahead And the road is behind. I'm being blinded, Is this the cost of freedom? Too much coffee And not enough sleep Black. Light. Spots. Peaks don't help when Stars are staring you down And December is no place For tinted lenses