Enter Sandman

You close your eyes and hope to die,

yet hope you wake up one more night.

The quiet demon seems to speak,

once you've passed the midnight peak.

Claw your skin and dread the sunrise,

for once awake it's too late to rise.

And the words your write they whisper,

but once you hang on they dispel.

And when you writhe with the sun you try

to shut out the imps who attempt to pry.

You've sought the fruit but were distracted,

and upon clearness the path's destructed.

So before dawn dawns you must make a choice,

attempt to live bright or allow their rejoice.

And you spelt their blood and guts on paper,

for the brief minutes you their thoughts could taper.

And come the morning and their smite,

expel their thoughts you fought at night.

Now close the book and leave them hidden,

for from your sleep they are forbidden.

Cestrum

I started writing poems after I met you. 

That much is a lie but I'd like to think it true.

I sleeplessly watched the moon while waiting,

For the post-midnight sign that of me you were thinking.

All the words on the dictionary would have seemed taken,

As your speech would constantly render mine sunken.

And of the moments we talked, some days I remember.

From goodbye in that month to hello in December.

These violet rimmed eyes I keep trying to fix,

Yet cannot for I’m hanging on a thread I did nix

Back when I was unready and ran filled with fright.

But just now, once more, you’ve kept me up at night.

Daisy, Marigold

I do not say

that I care no longer.

I just say, previous

feeling begone:

Under the shine of
your smile I still wonder,

About the times

I toiled for so long.

Those hands intertwined

move me yonder,

To the heart I, for you,

left alone.

Dear Daisy I thank you, I've been just once more, to the lands I thought to never return.

Dear Daisy, mine never, but I regret not. I have withered once yet been reborn.

Rivers Run Dry

Rivers run dry,

once the earth stops to blink.

Rotting from the core,

refused to change, but how, I think?

I refused to pry,

won't ask her questions.

Yet the rivers ran dry,

and the rest grew restless.

And I watched her wither,

fold deep into herself.

And once the earth unfolded,

what I received was not myself.

Apollo, part III

A name of no face,

a face of no man.

Bathed upon the sunshine,

in the back of my mind.

If I spoke would you talk?

I just pretend I didn't hear.

So pretty, I fear, 

pity I never came near.

Was I embarrassed, or shy?

'Tis but a memory, honoured goodbye.