All that time lost,

All those moments, that are absent

From the hesitantly created tapestries

That are our lives.


All that space, you

Could have filled

In the longing shaped grooves

That knew you by name, stranger.


I would reach out for you

In the darkness.

My own living ghost

Who knew what was to come.


I would call out for you

In the night.

My own unknown lover

Who knew the future like

the back of my hand.


And now,

I feel your electric heart

Calling me home with all

The might of a hurricane.





Published in: on March 3, 2017 at 3:21 pm  Leave a Comment  

Set Sail

The sea opened its lungs

Breathing us in, we waited

For time to have its say,

It offered nothing new

Only the recurring motions of the waves

And the perpetuating distance between us

“We should head home” You said.


We must cling to this life raft

Sail away on this hard

Ship of ours,

Sail somewhere new, to find

A place we can trust


The sea offered our reflections

We offered it our dreams

Published in: on February 14, 2017 at 4:31 pm  Leave a Comment  

Search Party

I am only what you make of me

You are lost at sea 

I am drowning 

In this search party 

Call out to me

Call out to me 

Published in: on January 28, 2017 at 11:56 am  Leave a Comment  


Published in: on January 28, 2017 at 12:27 am  Leave a Comment  

Edit Post ‹ Rage Against The Dying of The Light — WordPress.com


Published in: on September 2, 2016 at 9:00 am  Leave a Comment  


Blood on all our hands

This time

They have no answers

As an arsonist carries

No water


This land, this tired island

Had what was called love

Replaced it with everything

That is not love


Immigrant, stranger, other

I feel what you feel

I too am a foreigner

In a country that

I fail to see myself in

Published in: on June 29, 2016 at 1:56 pm  Leave a Comment  

These Lives of Ours #1

The months after were an exercise in weakening the heart, learning to live with a death that never occurred. There was no space for anything else other than the spectre of the catastrophe that in its failure ruined all that was good yet gave us enough hope to sail our shipwreck upon. An event so brutal in its execution that it destroyed the last remnants of childhood innocence; innocence that once felt indefinite. No space for love or understanding and forgiveness availed us for some time and with its absence our wounds remained open to the salt of our memories.

We escaped the waking nightmare when we could, all with our own ways yet they were temporary escapes; the spectre of our newly formed reality was always there to keep us awake at night. It was her absence that would stalk me and bleed into my conscious to the point where it had a physical form that I was forced to carry, buckling under its enormous weight. If I could see her or be confident she was in the presence of others my condition was manageable, yet the sickening doubt that this was only a prologue to a even greater tragedy remained. Grieving now for how little I knew her and for how powerless I was to the whim of another’s decisions, no matter the pain they could cause me; the tragedy of being constantly unprepared for the inevitable occurrence of tragedy.

How I longed to escape that house, the hushed voices of morning and the sobs of night, all permeated with disbelief and anger. Forgiveness was on its way, you could feel it but in these moments it felt stillborn.

These were hopeless days, hopeless. Inertia inflicted us, the fragments of it remain splintered within us, refusing us the cherished acceptance that what happened is gone, that this new reality is a safe one and one we can trust.

Published in: on June 13, 2016 at 6:21 pm  Leave a Comment  

Big Bang Theory

Etched upon the stardust

That made us, is

I am more than I can conceive

All that matter

No matter the

Years and years and years

That pass

Will always relieve

I  am more than I can conceive


We’re still waiting

For the meaning of life

Until we believe

The script of what makes us


Then, and

Only then

Will we come close

Published in: on March 21, 2016 at 12:14 pm  Comments (2)  

On Time

Time evaporates ceaselessly,

Infinitely evading pause 

A perpetual lost cause 

Till it seems

There is no time at all

Only the space

We fill

With recurring

Motion and dreams

Published in: on March 10, 2016 at 6:03 pm  Leave a Comment  

What We Became When We Were Not Looking


Seemed so faraway

Much like

The myriad of distant todays

That we only feel a semblance of

In the pervading present

What we have come to call,




Seems so faraway

Much like

The spectre of distant yesterdays

That we only feel an impression of

In the permeating present

What we have come to call,



Oh, how time has changed me

Since a bright blue sky,

What we have to come to call Heaven,

Hung above me.

Published in: on February 17, 2016 at 11:51 am  Leave a Comment  
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