untitled

You are what i breathe
in those moments
before sleep blinds my eyes,
closed for the night.

Dreams doing justice
to you, staring
through to my soul
and wrapped around me.

It feels good to be held
in your eyes that way.
Like tulips filled with morning dew
waiting to grow.

Twists and turns to face you.
The beautiful ringing in my nostrils
from the smell of your hair in my face.
Lost in clouds of disbelief

A shame to wake up
without your gentle whisper
drowning out my snores.
Another dream for later.

Rough Working

Humanitarian Masquerade

Over dressed aesthetics,
drizzled puree of tuxedo ties and tails
on a plate of inherited rights for hob knobbing.

Philanthropy party pretences,
allowed as socially acceptable
Black, Straight, jackets.

Prestige takes precedence.
Excused with hollow words
spoken to earnest ears.

Enough to feed egos
Of sons of fathers with less
Than good intentions.

Going Home Revised

Going Home

Anarchy symbol
on a frozen glass
right of passage.
Poorly drawn
with a now cold, dirty finger.
This is college?
It was cold,
but not only because he said so.
Empty...
Seems like home
with concrete décor.
A welcomed change of pace
without looking down.
Walking out,
walking in bitter rhythm
with the snow
and the familiar howl,
unlocked.