The Drift.

and she looked at me
in the way I wanted it to be
but it was late
and, I, had places to be
could it fall so fast?
that, which was meant to last
could it be more clear?
my, this face, with your smear
you had said
that it was meant to be
and I said you knew my name
but, then, when you called
I didn’t respond
because it was late
we called it fate
but, what was all that
before all this
when we had time
to sit, define
then again
you had looked at me
in a way it wasn’t meant to be
and when it was not late
we still called it fate

whenever, the tides turned
they never favored
how we moved
and, we always looked backwards
to this drift
from the start
just why had you said
that it was meant to last.

The revered God of odds

This is a call to create me because I don’t exist

and seeing my life I think I may be the one

who walks past the dreams and desires 

skillfully in a bliss remembering the odds on how these existed without the pain

but then I am proved right soon 

leading me to think I created them

but if history of people would talk they would have the same walk

still I am blamed not to live through it with patience

and patience they say some don’t realise they already have it as a character 

while those who don’t are often seen demanding it

I am familiar with this cycle

but I am in the odd

with about everything 

and the slipping society

who will soon think of me 

as a non conformist 

and while they don’t know what they are conforming to

I have to mix in a haste

of being left behind I have to join soon

I see among me other few who are confused the same

and they talk themselves into it each day

this predicament becomes society

and I a social person

and those who live on to carry my burden

and don’t conform

they become my God

of all my odds.

Oasis

Inside myself is a place where I live alone

And that is where I go to renew my springs

The oasis is deep and is filled by the mistakes of my past

I bath in them each day, that is how I last

Every day I filter from it the weeds 

Which try to creep back into my deeds

That’s is how I stand apart

I push back my damaged parts.

Lost and Found

I sleep alone in my dungeons still this smell surrounds me like you are sniffing into my air and breathing back the fragrance at me, now, mixed with your scent because when I wake up I am enchanted by you, and when I sleep back again pretending to be with you I am actually alone in those dungeons I hear echoes still

“Is it me or is it you?”

Think of me when you think of us and it will always be the other way round

I to you, and to you, I surround

There in your unconquered depths I reside, while you wander in me the same way with your prying eyes

When I am with you I miss you and when I am not I miss you more

In the spiral winds of love I keep circling from your to my core.