Ink on Paper

These are my words.

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BAD//DREAMS

I had a dream the other night, About how you left this world behind, And though now I am awake I find, That this dream cannot escape my mind. I try to keep my mind occupied, But it is plagued with thoughts of some great divide. One we cannot see and we cannot find, And one we cannot cross until we have used our time. It shakes my bones and it shakes my mind, That our lives and deaths are predefined. So please, I beg send me a sign, Let me know that it will be just fine. Because I am not.

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Haiku #3

After all this time soaring high above the clouds, I came crashing down.

Inevitable. Only a matter of time. And so here I am.

Head over my heels flying ever so skyward to come crashing down.

I've come to accept that although I am happy, it will not last long.

No such remedy can grant me relief and that may be fine.

What scares me the most Is that this might be real life. Is this all there is?

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Honesty

I was reminded of you today.

As my feet carried me along the never-ending grey through the swirling hurried mass of people that blocked my way. All avoiding each other’s gaze So as not to risk having to come up with something to say.

The weather becoming bleak, as if the skies were carefully, cautiously making up their minds whether to be angry or to be kind. And it was only a matter of time.

I had been carried past the hospital grounds led by the hand of the love I have found.

Blissfully wasting our precious time as young people do and for a moment I felt like I was right next to you.

I wonder what it is like for you to be God know’s where Although I don’t subscribe to heaven or hell I still hope you’re taking care.

I still struggle with mortality: I can’t quite seem to get my head around it. And yet, constantly I am thinking about what death holds for me.

I am probably writing this in vain, but this is an open letter. I am an educated man, and I should damn well know better, but I am far from OK.

This is not a plea for help.

This is not me giving up.

This is honesty, and honestly Although life is moving swiftly, I miss the old me.

And I miss you.

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Letter

Dearest Grandfather, winter is closing in. Such persistent cold. As for my Mother, and for me and the others, it is getting old. But the constant chill that plagues us through the season; it is not the reason. It is not the reason I can’t stop my shivering. Although I have tried. But the truth is that I can’t grasp the thought of time. Although I have tried. I’m weaker than most although I hide myself well, so no one can tell. But ten thousand miles just turned infinitely more. And the distance shakes me. Though I find solace in your memory and I hold every piece of advice you gave to me, the winter will always stay cold. Maybe we will meet again when I grow old.

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Eleven

A life left behind. Maybe things would have turned out so different. Perhaps for the better perhaps for worse. Nevertheless, a timeline cut short. And now memories fade like it was all some kind of dream, or a story once told by a parent. I try to focus on specific moments; a party, an object, a friend... But all come too slowly and when they do arrive, they are masked by a blur. Not quite in focus. Everything I know I’ve seen, but nothing that could have ever been.

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Cloud Play

As I watch the frail summer clouds drift through the sky without a worry, I wonder if I will ever be as lucky. To drift through my life, Blissfully happy, without a troublesome thought. But then they come back