It Happens

 It happens, 

almost always, 

as though don't coax it, 

without silence

with lack of resolve, 

eventually we end up 

being the very people we loath 

we are okay doing nothing 

just dreaming those big dreams 

How Do I Miss You

I don't know how to miss you,

I have tried but I can't, 

I guess longing for you needs a manual, 

an how-to, 

it somehow feels as though it can't be 

a DIY project,

there's a science to missing you, 

and I am an ancient man, 

a man who tells time by the sun's position, 

and years by crop harvest, 

seasons by locust invasions, 

for that I am duly lost, disillusioned in my longing, 

probably undue, 

I don't know whether we'll ever meet again, 

I have reserved my missing you,

were it possible, 

I'd pack the precious little moments 

we shared, 

the brief love, 

the laughter, that often felt as though it was stolen, 

and store somewhere, 

somewhere I'd reach occasionally, 

to gaze and remember to miss you 

just for a second. 

for a brief vain moment. 

The Drunk

when you no longer exist, 

in anyone's plans, 

its you alone, in your decrepit hacienda, 

rolling tobacco on obituary section of old 

newspapers, 

you are like a shadow, present 

but never missed 

mulling, 

ruminating, 

meditating, 

you no longer dream

beyond your next tipple, 

it's over for you

it was over a long time ago 

The Silence

 The silence, 

the borrowed silence, 

as if we are tiptoeing 

around each other, 

one numb, 

the other uncaring, 

the haunting silence, 

the silence of a machete,

and a shovel 

The Interloper

I am alone, 

an interloper 

in a place I should call 

home, 

the stench that wafts 

after me is failure, 

I am an intruder, 

stalking,

walking around unseen, 

I am of little use, 

sitting by boulders

in unseen corners, 

trying to be invisible, 

I am not welcome in 

spaces where men have 

opinions, 

for I, an interloper, 

has not more sense 

than cow dung 

Too Tired Too Early

 an unreedeeming yawn, 

today's promising dawn,

filtered into a bucket of 

unfulfilling days 

unearned fatigue settles 

like dust

the head hauls unnecessarily heavy 

thoughts 

thoughts of yore,

dreams unlived 

girls unkissed 

abandoned stories 

again, unearned fatigue rattles, 

a warning, 

tomorrow might begin 

too early 

too early, 

always too tired too early 

I Have Loved You

 I have loved you in ways,

in ways devoid of common sense, 

I've loved in the quiet desperation of 

an addict, 

I have loved you 

in ways that asked nothing in return, 

but all I gotten in return 

is jeering silence, 

as if my heart has no discernible rhythm