days.

insomnia carries

its weight through 

my days

dragging my feet 

slowing my heart

heavy on my eyes 

insomnia carries. 

grief weighs

its way through

my days

pricking my nerves

poking at memories

getting my guts

grief weighs.

happiness floats 

over my head through 

my days

out of reach

visibly pretty

achingly far

happiness floats. 

left.

the grimest

of reapers

doesn't want

you dead,

for him the

satisfaction 

lies in your

suffering. 

a cast

of shadows

greets you 

as you run

but you

can't let the 

rapture

catch ya.

aim for the

thin places

the spaces

where the 

air is pregnant

& you are 

born again. 

depleted 

but you 

can't fight

the devil

with willpower 

so acceptance 

is all

that's left.

cheyenne.

sitting in the shadow of the rockies

it's a long way there. 

fog covered mountain, secrets

i'd like to leave behind 

here in the shadows.

hands feel like ice

and ice feels like fire

and it won't feel so cold

if you just keep walking. 

stopping 

lets the chill air catch you

here in the shadows.

keep breathing deeply

the air is much

much thinner here

so catching breath is 

mindfulness, 

not mechanical.

think of the pioneers 

and slip on some sheepskin 

listen to the whispers.

because the mountain

knows them by their names

& by their dreams.

dream of steam trains 

and ski shoes, try to

pioneer your way out

of the past

of my head

it's not quite white yet

not quite hermit time.

storm.

it's deliciously messy 

when cuts cause blood

but not always.

i'll ask you to

send envoys 

from another 

threshold, because 

however harrowing 

the daytime 

there is still 

enormous scope 

for the night.

apparently & differently 

the scariest step

is out.

when the blues

keep banging

in your head 

every step

is pointless, 

like a circle.

this time

the storm

stays silent.

don't

write an anthem

write a prayer

write for the man

who is not there. 

write real fast

but reluctantly 

embrace the rhythm 

that you feel don't see.

don't see colour 

don't see race

don't see the nose

that's on my face

don't see the facts

that surround you now

i dream of better

but i don't know how. 

coffee

i choose coffee

over love.

why not?

my heart already 

ripped dripping

from my chest

that night,

that night of 

a thousand knives.

i choose coffee 

& make it strong. 

make it a liquid

to drip pitch

down my throat. 

make it in shots 

& give me

the bullets 

to load.

i choose coffee, 

because if it's 

hard to sleep

it's hard to dream. 

i choose coffee.

over water, over tea

over land, over sea

over anything else

you want to serve. 

places.

i wake early to watch

the clouds

as if they were 

television.

joined by birds

incredulous 

we sing

& we sing

in a voice not quite

melancholy. 

i like to find

the thin places,

the spaces between

here

& not here.

someday the rapture

will take me

but for now

i settle for

some other damn

paradise.

strips.

it only took

a look

to turn me

into a

somebody 

done

somebody 

wrong song,

leaving me

bleeding roadside

in a sentimental 

way.

we sit

through the

guilty hours

ripping strips  

off a reality

rendered over

and nothing

that you say

can make 

this bitter 

distance

better.

didn't.

i didn't see it coming

when he took my hand

on the corner of

underdog & vine,

heartskip romeo

to sweep me

off the street.

so i didn't see it coming,

drunkdriver fast 

a car

to sweep me 

off the street 

& closer to heaven

than a body should climb. 

i didn't see it coming,

the gravity slap

that the 

the comedown implied. 

i was the prima ballerina 

in the frantic dance

around the inevitable. 

covered.

i'm not in

the habit of

misguided 

infatuation, so

what i like most

is your haunting 

storm damage

and the easy way 

you cover it over 

with sarcasm 

& substance abuse.

but whiskey 

don't make lucky

so i become 

familiar with the 

quick exit of the 

one night stand,

& the cold of the

middle of the

night.

needs.

"i'll be there soon"

he said

a long time ago.

i stayed long enough 

for a spider to spin

a web on me

so that she could

whisper in my ear

"if you need me i'll 

be dancing".

thoughts.

 i'm not in the business 

of giving things away 

but this frown is free,

i made it myself 

from found objects

so you see

it has your name on it.

once,

and later on

the needle scratches 

words of

ambiguous meaning,

another tattoo 

torment.

thoughts, they 

waterfall, & the 

only time

peace finds a

home here

is when elvis

sings the 

blues.