3:00 am

Sitting in a car
Three of us
I only know two

Pitch black
and yet clear as day
I can’t let go

There are so many hours ahead
and yet too few left
I am awake

4:30am

They start drifting in
I push them out
They try again, a little more urgent
I push them out

They beg to get my attention
It’s working
The kettle is on
Now what?

The needle

The needle comes and goes
forgotten completely
until the day it returns
biting skin and leaving indelible stains

Each mark etched
is no less than a word itself
spanning decades
Drawn in pains of grey

The words tell a story I have forgotten
like someone else’s map
The pain long gone
in stinging lines of black ink

Maybe the story is never finished
anymore than a stream running to sea
Maybe it is my story to the world
the story of here I am

It was cold out

I wrapped up and went walking
it was cold out
I picked up two little stones to warm my hands

The wind from the North
smelt of snow
My nose running for shelter in my beard

I longed for something and nothing
stumbling along hidden paths
Through brambles of thoughts

I trod in dog shit
It was cold out
I picked up two little stones to warm my hands

Music

Does my soul attract the music I listen to?
Or does the music I listen to, attract my soul?

She's shining through the curtains again

The full moon
Keeps me up another long night
She’s shining through the curtains again

I wear a cossack hat in bed
To keep my brain from freezing
In case I should fall asleep

My bed companions have crippled my legs
For some reason I cannot move them
Maybe because they breathe contentment

When I do sleep I watch my dreams like movies
And yet still I know I am awake
My surroundings still tangible

Dreams so real
I am left with emotional scars
That take time to leave

The full moon
Keeps me up another long night
She’s shining through the curtains again