BlackOut Poetry #5.
As dew drops sparkle like diamonds on the grass, the morning mist descends blanketing the ground and making me dream. I see the sky burn the the colour of a subtropical twilight and beyond the horizon are mountains devastated by harsh winds which work on the nerves and leave you a trembling wreck.

Kitchen Poetry # 26.
Black velvet
is draped
across the night sky
and shimmers with studded jewels.

Kitchen Poetry # 25.
Those memories
burn it to the ground
and sear your name
across my heart
ne m'oubliez pas.

BlackOut Poetry #4.
To her, you're the spirit that lingers in a house after everyone is gone.
I'll bet you're even the nervous insomnia that keeps her up at night.

Kitchen Poetry # 24.
"What else do you need to be happy?" she asked.
"Well, we all need good friends" he answered while sipping his coffee.
"Is that it?" she says as she plays with her hair.
He looks into his coffee cup and smiles while adding, "good coffee...and, a place to call home?"

Heart Instead of My Head.
Somewhere between the giddy of wake and sleep I thought I heard you whisper that I was the poetry in every conversation you've ever had. I smiled because the things I want lose out to the one I love.

Great Satire.
Feeling useless after those embraces
rapt in a nightmare dripping in gold.
The dark is tempting like the allure of sphinxes
as a nervous insomnia keeps me in the cold.
Levels of hysteria begin to boil over
with the same gravity he becomes her obsession.
This shadow play is replaced as a new lover
take my heart and begin its castration.