A Series of Poems I Found on the Back of One of My Assays (2011)

Yes, assays. Not essays. They're not very good but I'll write them down here before I forget them or lose them forever. Some of them, obviously not done. Also, my writing's really hard to read.


Honesty.
My beacon of white light
means nothing in the face
of the sun,
proud and burning,
hot to cold flares, unrelenting,
(?) to try to outshine the
(?) with words created from a place
where no light penetrated.


Everybody's dancing the dance of the rain.
It pours out
and fills the center of the earth,
cooling it down and calming the fury of the fire,
making the soul of the earth
a pathetic apathetic shadow
of a once glorious (?)
with blue green scales.


Through the fire, through the sleet you came
and broke a part of me with you,
as you swam underground (?)
from the catacombs of my memory.
You invaded my soul on the glorious streets of Dublin.


Been away from home for a long time,
living on foreign shores.
The air smells cleaner here,
but I am unsure as to what I am breathing in.


I just wish I could let you go.
Alone, the (?) (?) (?) (?).
Patience is a virtue, you said,
throwing back in my face
all the advice I gave you to save you
from yourself and the fires of hell.
Alas, I've been waiting,
when each second feels like
an entire evolutionary history has gone by,
and I'll be as foolish as the little mudfish,
breathing half air half water,
thriving in neither;
a joke of creature
with (?) (?) energy to breathe.


Over the bridge and under it, one day,
you let your hand slip into mine.