Cornered
Small
Help me
Please
Don't be like him
Cause he broke me
I'll make it up to you I swear
Fuck. What can I do
I've been here, I know the plot
Last time I got it
But if I get this, than I lose you

Response to the Hollow Men

I am stuffed
With straw
Yes.
But I find myself
No hollow
Filled rather
With golden straw
That gleams
And radiates
Like sunbeams though the canopy.
Perhaps this is lost, though
We are lost
To the sunlight on the ruins.
But the broken gods
They dance in beams
And so appear to delight
In weaving the straw
That streams from the sky.
So who is hollow then
If not us?
Perhaps the brilliance lost
Stranded, without fear.
Dear Bobby*, Dear Allen**
We beg of you be kind
Forgive us, as we know not what we do,
For we are not hollow
Filled with straw
And its glow.
In the light of ourselves
Our self souls see violence
But unseeing to the lost.
We forget
About those broken gods.
And so we lie
And we die
Unopened to greatness
That spilled from you like straw
From a scarecrow,
In a long untended field,
That split
With a bang




*Bobby Fisher. **Allen Turing

Different Winters

In summer I will wait
Wait on you
I will be patient as leave turn to flakes
Of snow, that drift gently to the ground
And as they pile, and melt from coats before open fires
As children return to school, and thoughts turn to green
I will be patient.
I know you have a long way to travel,
For me the cold heralds being reborn
To you the dead and dying trees call
In the same snow we see different winters
But as the sun shines though
So will joy with you
Though December we will part,
And I shall miss my heart
At the touch of spring we find again
Our paths to merge.
Let the sun open your eyes to me
At the touch of spring.