Falling is like flying.

I stand upon the edge of rooftops
Far weaker than I hoped to be.
Longing to lean a little farther,
Helping gravity to set me free.

Because falling is like flying
If you’re not afraid of dying,
Or wonder if you’ll hear the sound
Of your body as it greets the ground.

I wish I had embraced deeper connections
To pieces of my life, opposed rejections.
But I’ve always felt I was alone,
So now I’m leaving on my own.

The view is such that departing seems a shame,
I’m sorry for myself as there’s no one else to blame.
I think I understand what our mortality is for,
Insight sets me free from the fear I felt before.

And now, now I think I understand,
Why nothing ever goes the way that it was planned.
And then I finally realise after all,
It’s my choice to be flying as I fall.

death is..

I have seen alluring women in white
Anfractuous gowns, billowing on bridges in the breeze,
Standing stark against the night,
And I was afraid, afraid of these..

Ever our obtuse disquietude of death
Has filled our mind like a crack, and in return,
In ignorance we have stained it black,
A symbol of our pitiful and vacuous lack
Of comprehension.

But would they witness what I have seen,
Deep within improbable realities of dream,
Death is not black, nor darkness, or night,
Death is women with eyes blue bright,
Standing on bridges
Dressed in white.

Dear Alice..

Dear Alice, I’m ‘fine’,
Hope this finds you in kind.
I’ve been writing some time
To you now, and I find,
You’re a strange friend of mine,
At least here in my mind.
Here inside of my mind, at least most the time.

Dear Alice, how are you?
If I am to stay true,
I’m having to tell you
That I’m lonely and blue,
I don’t know what to do
When the sky..The sky I swore would stay blue,
Is now gangrenous in hue.

Dear Alice, I’m dying,
Lost and I’m crying,
No amount of applying
Myself
Really matters
Anymore.
And I know that we swore..

Dear Alice, love you,
But I hate your guts too.
Everybody assumes
I suture up in my room.
With some string and old glue,
But I’m confessing to you,
There’s not much left I can do.

Dear Alice, I forgot,
To tell you just what
You really want me to not.
I sliced completely through our promise knot,
Along with my flesh, veins and a lot
That when I cut it apart,
All those stitches and knots,
Can’t put Humpty back on top.

Dear Alice, don’t you
Feel the very same too?
It’s not just things I go through,
But all the things , all the things, all the things I’ll never do.

So I’m cold. On the floor bleeding out
In so many different ways,
And every wound is deeply laid
By every single wasted day,
By all the thoughtless things that people say.

And I don’t want to stay, no, don’t want to stay.
Not like this anyway.
Hope you’ll forgive me some day.
Dear Alice.

There’s only one way out..

What can I say?
Everyday we’re getting closer.
Some like to jump the gun,
Trying hard, hard to be someone.
Others yet, wishing for much less,
Tend to leave a mess,
But still,
Against our won’t or will,
Everyday we’re getting
Close.

Falling With Autumn

I suppose the trees, in retrospect,
I should have attended, my neglect
Of time’s subtle scythe, and due respect
For their reminder; nature always calls,
And she who answers always falls.
A premonition of my future
Abandoned casually by trees
Crying red,
Dying, dead.
Autumn leaves, as they led
Falling echoes of my life,
Fleeting, fled. Underfoot
On which to tread, and I,
Despondent, sighing said:
‘There lies everything,
Don’t by it’s beauty, be misled.
The whole world and all within ends thus:
These dying leaves are us’.

life sucks, and then..

Death, a rotting corpse of us doth make,
No different thus to when as fools
We lived and thought we were awake.
How arrogant our daily toil,
Because we moving breathed and spake.
How easily this mortal coil
Leaves us to linger in its wake.