It's funny
How sorrows melt
When dancing.
Because songs
Transcend the moment
And remind of
Other little moments
And memories
That aren't reachable.
So one grows sad.

But then a hand
Reaches out,
Attached to a friend
And his smiling face.
"Would you care to dance?"

At the start,
Your smile is fake,
An act.
But then it becomes
real.

Le Rossignol

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.

Nous sommes citoyens
Du monde.
Nos mots sont
Nos drapeaux.
Nous sommes pour
Tous les temps
Et tous les vies.

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.

Nous sommes le vert de printemps,
Le chaud d'été,
Le rouge d'automne,
Et le froid d'hiver.
Nous sommes vieux et jeunes,
Vrai et faux.

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.
Et nous payons avec nos vies.

My heart hurts.
Somebody fix it
Because I'm going
To run out
Of chocolate and tea.
No rhyme,
No reason to this;
Just struggling
And confusing
Humanity messing things up.
 
As usual.

I refuse to cry.
I've done enough of that
In these recent times.

Homesickness
Is so easy to ignore
When there's homework
And dancing
But then one old hymn,
Sung at advent
In your mind,
Appears and suddenly
Home is very far away.

Rage,
Goddess sing
The rage
Of one remembering
And regretting.
Rage,
Sing the rage
And let it burn,
But do not destroy.
Ilium was always
Meant to fall.

I want time to fly.
I know it will,
So it's an easy wish.
While yes,
I want to cherish
Every fleeting moment
Of my first year
Away at school,
I'm also anxious
To end this time
Away from you.

What do you say,
When you're afraid
Of anything of substance?

And then you hate
Yourself for this fear
Because doesn't

"I love you" mean
"We can talk about
The hard stuff?"

Or maybe it's
"I'll protect you
From the hard stuff."

But either way,
You're too afraid
To try and win.

The Golden Thread and Black Cord

I think too much.
Sometimes.
Because when I've
Thought myself
Into a funk
I think myself
Deeper and deeper-

That's the thing with artists.
In order to create
We have to open ourselves up
To every emotion,
From the deepest of sorrows
To the highest of joys

We're balancing on a golden thread
Trying not to fall
And be lost in the fatal ecstasy
While the black cord
Wraps around your throat
And you can't breathe!

People ask,
"How do you like your tea."
And I always respond:
"Black-"
And depending on the company,
"Like my heart."

That's the thing about jokes.
There's always a bit of truth. 

Où es-tu?

Où es-tu?
Mon amour,
Mon cher,
Où es-tu?

Je me sens si seul,
Je doute,
Je crains
Et me sens négligés
Et pourquoi tu
Ne pas écrire?

Où es-tu?

La nuit est si belle.
Je suis si seul.

There is something
Magical
About a room full
Of bodies moving
And dancing
In time
But they're just
A blur
Because all that matters
Is that one couple,
That pair who know
Just how the other
Will move
And they're perfect,
Every turn
And touch,
Even in their mistakes.

And you're not jealous.
Not envious.
You're in love
With another couple's
Love

I wanted you
To laugh
When I told you
About finding Narnia,
Not explain
The science I could
Have used in ending
A fabricated mystery.

You can't be with me,
But I thought
I could still
Share the magic with you.

Tonight's the night.
It all breaks loose.
Dear Lord,
Preserve my feels
As I prepare for the
Series 7 Premiere
Of Doctor Who.