Your Grateful Victim

With gentle hand.
Above unbroken
Cloud green gaze.
Weaved and matted. 
Fingers round hair.
Until, so silently,
With softest smile. 
You stole
That name away. 


I Heard The Roar, I Ran

No longer will I
Look, to shores
Of distant lands.
The foaming roar
Of grey wolf waves,
Battered me back.
Screamed me down.
Faced me in defeat.
Toward this. 
The land so banal. 
Worn to fit these feet.
As they grow and harden.

No longer will I look. 
Nowhere else will
I call home.
For I have dreamed.
And failed.
So I look to love.
Where I stand.