Cold Coffee

Relationships are like cold coffee

The initial rush, the thrill and the lust

For warmth in the form of a kiss

Choose what you’re after, don’t choose what you get

Like the long hours later awake of night with regret

Other times, when the heat has risen

And the night has come

The company is all that you want

It’s the one


-Ben

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The White Light

The white light wraps around my brain.

Taking another hit

I scamper to the home screen

With the knowingness that it’s not what I need

But it’s what I want

I check all 6 of my social media platforms, refreshing them two times each just in case someone decided to reach out to me.

Then I drink deeply from the feed.

Scrolling sips of sustenance for my starved mind. The mind that left this body just for a while to become a part of something bigger, greater.

[A commune of hungry ghosts searching for freedom]

I tape my eyes to the screen, i try to leave

With the realisation that it’s not what I want

But it’s what I need

And I can’t


-Ben

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Periscope

Steaming tea mists the windows and the trickles of tears remind me of winter
The grey view.
Brushing off my senses, to the real task
The mind wipes the dirt off of it’s database and rumbles into action, searching,
The vacuum whirs
A headache of knowing that you are going to do something, and you do not know what.

The ache reaches to your loins, the innermost parts of you,
pressing into the fear that underlies your every action, that you might not be able to manage today, that you might die.

But there’s no use in dying
Not today
Try finding a line, for the song of it
Even if there is nothing to say

It’s gaping you know
The truth.
I see you living in the in-between places in your mind
because of pain.
Even pain that’s not around anymore.
Even pain that you made to warm yourself.

Look at your reflection in the hourglass, sister
The only you you ever knew
and take flickers from the water,
make a periscope,
and watch them fly.

 


-Ben

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Image by Ruatsanga

Truth

My truth

isn’t the palm trees in trafalgar square

the sunny blue skies above the hurricane

the Willow stretching through the church

My truth

is the music of bird song in the garden

the whisper of the wind on the river

the lips of a lover by a streetlight

My truth

is the moments when I am

Truly

Wholly

Here.


-Ben

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StreetWalking

Floaters under streetlights
and passing faces
Reminders, that strangers waiting
For the same trees
are holla’ing at me

The moon is a giver
and the sky is a painting
I’m the canvas, look at me
Breathe for me
Our sleep on the grass is the last time
the time passed for us

Wondrous thoughts pass through me
Catch me in the haze

 


-Ben

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