Tell me that this death will not kill me

I can no longer deny the sadness and the tired flight

Of birds that want to go home in winter

I am defeated, still, waiting, stuck, and struggling

Wanting to be brave, leaving behind poetry,

To live in a world of bold acts. Save you,

Balance on a precipice, kiss you,

A dream that seems further away in the light

Of the early hours of the night when I write

Because sleeping feels like giving up

On hope, on love, on God.

I tell myself sweet lies. I watch the news,

I cook the rice the way the package tells you,

I feed the cat, I brush my teeth,

I dread to sleep. Oh but to think that I could love,

To be anywhere but here, the coffin of my home,

Where the days repeat. Numbers on the news,

The prime-minister smiling at the vultures,

You cannot bear the words he speaks,

Wanting to hide, and to sleep

If sleeping means to wake up when it’s all over.

Nightmare in the making. You wake, you work,

You call your mum, you watch TV,

You watch the pile of dishes grow,

Drinking coffee, black and mocha,

Eating forty grams of chocolate

Thinking of something else. Oh my, my.

‘I was thinking of you,’ she said,

‘All alone, at home, indoors.’

‘I thought of you a lot.’

There was a time a rose could kill you

When invited to bloom

In the garden, in the shade, curling leaves

And bite of stinging thorn that breaks the skin

In that time we lived with haste

Prayed that it would not be today

That the children stopped dancing

And we'd have to give them away.

In reality, you are a star

That shines through my evening.

Carrying heart.

I would abandon hatred

Everything -

If such star would stay

And light the evening sky

Whenever I am slain

And falling between worlds.

If, before I wake again,

You stay

And watch me sleep.

Stars and moons,

And universe and song.

The solar flares are singing

Through time and space

Falling through

The open window

Playfully upon the floor

The light has traveled more than I

Who welcomes it into the home

I want to leave to reach the stars.

Tear away from gravity

The judgements of society

To journey through the black canvas

On which we paint the world.

I stand alone and here behold

The emptiness that’s vast before the stars unfold

When nymphs and kings and tyrants

Summon you, do not fall face-first in the dust

No tyrant can control your human heart

Your unspoken thoughts, or cherished dream.

And so the evening, without announcement,

Goes - the sunlight of the empire is fading.

For the longest time, I admired

The little ballerina in the music box

To dance and to be elegant, ad infinitum.

And to regret nothing.

I walk around like a madman. Don't you believe me?

I am holding a phone in my hands. It is broken, and so are my hands. I am walking across the street. The pebbles have come loose and are strewn about. My shoes are torn.

The streets are empty. The lights behind the windows have gone out.

I cannot help it, being here. You must understand, I am looking for my cat. It is only a kitten. I can only breathe again when I hold it in my arms.

The rain is pouring, so my toes go cold. The smell of rain washes away, bit by bit, the lingering smell of gasoline. I try to count the tires I step over that have littered the road, hotspots of burnt-rubber smell.

Calling quietly, under my breath: 'Mr. Pebbles!'

I see him after a while, sitting curiously under a street light that is broken. There are only sparks flying out of the light bulb and Mr. Pebbles is watching them fall down.

I call him again and he looks back at me, all scars and wounds and with a dreadful mood hovering over his eyes.

'It'll be okay,' I tell him, holding out my hands.

There is that sound of a running engine that was there before, but is now getting louder. Across the roof of the next house an orange light starts roaring, flames licking the panes, crawling around the windows. The fire starts in a matter of seconds. I can feel the heat stream over me as I watch it. Then, looking back, there is a car coming towards me. I cannot see who is driving it.

'Come on, Mr. Pebbles,' I urge him.

The cat stares at me apologetically. Sorry boss, not gonna happen.

'Mr. Pebbles!' I shout at him. He curls his tail under him and continues to watch me. The orange of the fire is reflected in his eyes, quite beautifully. I continue to stretch out my arms toward him.

I am present.

Love your heart,

Shape the words

Into daydreams

And actions

And machinery,

Ghosts' ink

And silk

And fireworks.

For a brief moment -

The passageway is open.

The future unfolding in the dark,

Behind the reflection,

Embracing the past,

Whispering hypotheses.

The passageway is open.

Voices tremble, light wavers,

Footsteps in the empty hallway.

This is not a subway -

No guarantees, no ticket fees,

You might just lose your mind,

But the horizon lies wide open.

Waterfalls flow upward,

Music stretching out in all directions,

Fotons multiply.

The passageway is open.