Author: headgeek

Every morning I reach for you, and you’re not there anymore.

You are a user. I am a loser, forever believing I was other than a toy, a source of supply for you to get your jollies, your fix. I was nothing but a virtual blood bank to a psychic vampire, creature of the night and darkness, living off of others.

Yeats and I inscribed verses Inspired by unrequited love. He had Maud, I had you; Both untouchable beauties and as dust now. Yet the poems live on.

You know what you should be doing. Stop messing around and go do it.

Let the Myth Precede And exceed The Man, then show more.

I find no solace in the solstice. The Long Day you went away. Darkness comes too early.   

The Day after the Solstice The days grow shorter. We begin the decline into darkness, Yet still the birds sing.

My friends say you are a “Smoke Show” because you are so smoking hot. But you are smoke and mirrors, illusions and delusions, tricks, lies, slight of hand, falsehoods and filters. Yet behind the mask lies substance few others have seen that I truly adore.

The dawn awakens the world Like you awoke my soul And forced me to write, A slave to my muse.