The value 
of life 
isn’t in
its binding 
but rather 
the perspective 
gleaned from 
pouring over 
the pages 
in between 

And as I 
tuck in nightmares 
once thought of
as dreams I
use dirt instead 
of blankets to 
cover them one
day I’ll plant 
petunias there or 
maybe rhubarb and 
make use of 
the fertile soil 
of what once 
might have been 

Oh so long
ago the music 
stopped but I 
kept on humming 
the same tune 
thinking then hoping 
that one day
the band would 
come to town 
they never did 
and now even
I have forgotten 
what to do 
now that I 
have no song

I follow 
the patterns 
and not 
the tide
the moon
or stars
I follow 
what has
been done 
with repetition
and know 
what is 
coming next 
such fools
are those 
who hide 
behind masks 

A reef
you were 
upon which 
I swam
too near
you left
your mark 
with cuts
and scars
ever so 
close to 
my heart