thank god for nights

the piles of snow
yards of sand
miles of forests
seventy seven rivers
and everything else
between you and me
that i will never cross

the walk under fall trees
(sunset colors all day long)
that you will never share
the beat up car
you will never ride
the sloping walls
you will never marvel at
romantic stairs
you will never pose on
and everything else mine
that you will never touch

far away from you,
i close my eyes
as if that will make me forget
that we will never be
in the same frame
except in photoshop

as if that will shield me
from sights that
are not for your eyes

only the nights remind me
that at least
we lie under the same moon

poems

a poet wears outside
what should rightly be inside
just like the snail
wears its bones

the only difference is that
unlike an exoskeleton
poems are not bones
but pieces of soul

Question

"My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees - my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath - a source of little visible delight, but necessary."

- Catherine Earnshaw

Question: How many rocks are you allowed to have?

:P

lunch hour

is such an entirely different world
from the work hours
that it is carved from

(dandelions. sunshine. rippling water.
snicket. nephilim. ritual regicide.
photos. poems. dreams.
stories if i am lucky.
vs.
blank screen. gray partition. a/c)

Erudition

Is also my emancipation

How lucky am I

To wake up to a poem on the pillow

Erudition

Is a curse
That has made me too logical
To let myself go

(I refuse to admit
That i was born this way)