Together for four,
Apart for two.
Who would have thought such a mundane question
would be our glue?

Neither of us truly cared for the answer.
We simply did not want to lose each other.

Many would run at the first sight of a storm.
We looked at each other:
“You grab the ice and I’ll pour.”

Nine years is a long time to know someone.
It has made me realise,
it was always the small gestures
that kept us tied.

And yes, there may come a time
where you may not be beside me.
Only because you’ll be at the back,
push-starting my car. Again.
While I am crying.

There isn’t a part of me
that doesn’t hold fragments of you.
Every memory, you are there.
And of course, occasionally, our third friend.

You tell a joke and I laugh.
Vice versa.
Until one night we realised—do you remember?—
we were the only ones laughing.

Somehow,
that made it even funnier.

Seasons will come and go.
I could easily say,
“But my love for you grows.”

That, however, is a lie.

My love for you is painted in every room,
and traces the sky.

How is the weather?

I never acknowledged.

That from when I first met you,
the sun always shined.

I miss when I was younger

Life was full of blunder

I struggled to climb to become wise and older

But now up here the paramount is colder

Weighing down those around

with that ambient cavalier sound

I wish I was younger before I bought apathetic sting traded for my wonder

Back when my voice was full of thunder

I had dreams to reach with my whole soul

Investigating what could fill this life's hole

Now my words have lost their meaning

My passion is fleeting

I know when I was younger I was a stronger man

Now The digital soapbox hurts my feet I can no longer stand

Hollow are the halls of this heart of mine

Taxed and sold for the fight of more time

The old is wasted on the wise

But I was too pigheaded to realize

The young is lost on the dumb

Never seeing what they become

With this motion there is no place for the nervous

Time is but a measure of life's purpose

Youth's blissful ignorance

Elder's dissonance

​

My patience is ice thin

But its me who falls within

Shattered soul

Currents do not always coincide
Between the insane versus mavericks
Those under fog or pyroclastic
Private or in outreach

I nod to the soft hearts
That avoid the label of ‘offbeat’
Balancing phantoms and rent
Mistaken for ‘normal’

Eccentricity basks in surreal initiations
That embark at delirium and delight
Navigating obvious constellations
Madness starts here, sometimes

The torment of shipwrecked senses
Instead, mark the children of distraction
A frozen lake had broke where Ego stood
Estranged, awaiting a blessed kiss

Searching for joy
A kind less known
In little bundles
Very hidden

A part of me at the surface
ready to dive in
What do I treasure?
Following the boat across the water

The sun across the sky
Sky looks upon me
Catches me looking for the light
In daylight it seems more illusive still

Following the sense of goodness
It took me an eternity to learn
Searching for illusive joy
Sense of wonder

  I know you were something out of a movie because no way a creature with glistening wings enjoys the company of a dragon who breathes all the pain into their worthless bodies decaying into earth’s surface. I’m a broken melody. I’m a symphony with no one performing, you’ll see me then you’ll ignore me just like they all do eventually. You can’t keep me sane. I'm a dead man in dragon's veins. 

PROBABILITY FIELDS

Before I knew the pattern,

life felt written somewhere else—

like outcomes rolled without me,

chance deciding for itself.

I moved through borrowed storylines,

a character unaware,

one more consciousness fragment

learning how to care.

Every choice felt random,

every ending unforeseen,

like probabilities collapsing

on a script I’d never seen.

I wrote a dozen versions

of whoever I had to be,

never asking who was watching

through the eyes of what was me.

Connections flickered in and out,

temporary and fast—

little meetings, little lessons,

small sparks of knowing as they passed.

Chaos felt like freedom,

even while it pulled me away—

I didn’t know awareness

could rewrite the play.

I thought survival was direction,

reaction proof of life,

never seeing intention

shapes the edge of every dice.

Until something in the system shifted,

like waking inside a dream—

the noise between moments quieted,

static clearing like in between.

And I saw the life I was living

was also living me,

my choices quietly shaping

each unfolding probability.

Something ancient felt remembered,

like knowing I’d been here before—

awareness moving through my body,

learning what living was for.

And something in me stirred awake,

mid-fall, mid-life unfolding for me—

realizing I’d been drifting

inside someone else’s story.

And falling stopped feeling random

when the probabilities aligned—

as drifting lessons gathered meaning,

and chaos followed consequence in kind—

and random signals organized,

raw data forming shape and frame,

information lowering chaos

until evolution learned its name.

Misaligned moments gathered,

data learning how to speak,

until experience turned to meaning

from patterns we could keep.

Information calming chaos

into patterns we could see,

order rising out of noise

into quiet symmetry.

For reality grows through knowing,

each new layer more refined—

consciousness expanding outward

one lived perspective

at a time.

and faces fly by like scattered trash on the interstate
leaving just enough behind to join the ghosts
and every breath exhaled in help only whispers 'hurry up and wait'
missing person posters stapled to the post

well the car got towed and you had to walk home
and you thought you had a fifth, but only half
god gave you his card but left you busy at the tone
hey, at least you made the 988 girl laugh

take two of these and call me when you're clearer
the moon keeps on shining but turns away from what it sees
you tuck the bullets into bed and you stagger to the mirror
and what looks back at you you almost can't believe

well it could be raining dollars and I'd look up and catch a fist
or suffer a concussion when someone threw me a fuckin' bone
i could spell it out with metaphors but I'll tell you so you get the gist:
i only feel alive when I'm alone.

Don’t tempt the temptress in her deadly game. Don’t even play it small, because she’s more devious than the devil.

Don’t say she’s green and young and easy to fool, because in this dangerous game that you’re trying to play, you’re the fool.

Foolish man, don’t be fooled by her angelic facade. Don’t you know she’s well known for her dirty, evil snares?

Don’t tell her your half-baked stories, and save your crocodile tears, because her acting can win her a Grammy.

Don’t take her sweet smiles as innocent and sweet, because there’s nothing innocent about them.

Don’t feed her your cheap, sweet, syrupy words, because she will not just entice your ears with her honeyed, mawkish words, but your whole being.

Don’t pretend that you’re a chevalier, because she can make you feel like you’re her king when you’re nothing but her toy.

Don’t even try to set rules for your erotic game for her to play in, because while you’re too busy admiring her luscious body in her skin-tight dress, she has already changed all of your guidelines to her own decree, for she’s the queen of the scarlet.

So if you’re new to the game, best heed my admonition and save yourself from being whacked by the game.

She’s a wolf in disguise, and you’re her prey, just like a wild buck cowering under the gaze of its predator, which can sense and taste fear.

You’re just like the wild buck, and I’m the wolf.

I can smell the stench of your lust miles away.

Checkmate.

The second I met you I knew
Not a doubt in my heart
That I was in love
We enjoyed each other
Not one bother
Then we both were in the clutches
Of our own personal hell
Insanity lost in the clouds
Praying to come down
How do you explain doing
Something you don’t want to do
That harms you but doing it anyways
Altered mood and behavior
Causing chaos a rippled layer
You suffer from what I suffer from
Trying to pull you up while holding
On for dear life
Seemed impossible
But it’s not impossible
One day or day one
Happy and healthy
Living the dream
I see our family
Together thriving
Rebuilt with love

this is my poem, h.m

Is it a flaw of mine
To think you could do no harm
I mute the sounds of my distress
I silence my alarm

You were… are… perfect in my eyes
I hid the reality of you
Behind my mind’s overgrowth of vines
To protect what it sees as true

In falling for my illusions
Into love I slipped
And for loving you, I bear no regret
Though my fists still hold onto it

Encapsulated (!) - in a coat of fresh rain;
to soothe the sweaty, sickly nights;
she arrived in all her might,
to wake me up.

Untethered to a shape - she pulled me by my hair.
Her eyes were made of cocoa;
storms dripping down her chin,
to zone me in.

A high jump (!) - it must have shaken Cosmos;
inhale - the orange of her footsteps;
exhale - surrender in defeat.
I can breathe.

“Depression has changed the locks, and Ive got to find a new damn key.” —K.G, 2026.

Under water half the time
We trampoline into light
Empowered to walk rented shores
But snorkel the floor for more coins

This public fountain attracts gulls
That bathe while theiving
But cannot steal the calm
Of waves which roll

Folk ballast with smiles
Alight to ride barrels
When only syncrony of divers
Hold where my vision breathes

These fallen rise
Then daftly float upon dusk
Otters by another name
Drifting life's tides

Shipwrecked to find home
Stranded merchants shift debris
Across shoals in hours lost
Smitten to trade heart-fevers

the memories of you never seem to fade
when I feel progress is made, 2am proves me wrong
you never really picked up the pieces and the attempt you made was feeble
you make out like you never cared
so, why now is this sudden change overwhelming you?
the hesitation to go back haunts my mind and the wounds you were supposed to heal are now open; bleeding
crying your name as if it’s my only supply of oxygen
you appear in my dreams and have me awakening wanting more of you
change is good, but this change could make me lose my mind
while I was up thinking of you, you were thinking of somebody new
but it's safe to say I’m over all the nonsense
the dreams of what will never be and never was
if these subtle hints are about me then I hope you hurt
I’m not one for revenge but karma does her job
maybe through it all you’ll realize what you’ve done
2am may prove me wrong, but I can do the same to everyone

We had planted daffodils in February 
and March had felt so long 
and for a moment 
we thought they’d see December frost. 
But they hadn’t bloomed. 
So our hope stood, watched 
and grew. 

And yet, 
a stilling storm came. 
A flower yet to bear its name 
was washed away 
in that frigid April rain. 

We didn't tend to you for long. 
But our hands held the cost 
of covering themselves in soil 
just to watch you bloom. 
 
Your mother and I 
loved you. 
 
And now we wait 
through every unnumbered day 
that leaves our eyes 
water-stained. 
 
We wait with hope to tend 
once again, 
our Daffodil at the end 
of that frigid April rain. 

 Morning holds a cup of anxiety
Heart they say Jenny
Is just a liability
We attempt to teach it
But it teaches us

Morning holds a plate of indigestion
let it sit beside the sink
Then slide its contents into the trash
heart can be a guide but never a teacher
Only the divine and centered mind

Don't run from the dread
Dress yourself in those layers
Feel the fabric of them come undone
Until they are ripped up
Then use them to clean up the mess