I Am Alive


I Am Alive


Sweep the salt

and sand from my eyes,

And softly peel the warmth

of a light sleep from my bones;

Get up. Put on your shoes.

I am one step closer

to basking in the

Misty godforsaken hours,

To floating amongst

the drifting fog dunes,

And to walking among the slow breathing

of the dawn.

Cool and damp and loving towards

Tired graying souls.

I Am Alive.


If not for my sins,

If not for my lusty leisures,

If it is not worth sharp hips and

bruised thighs and cigarette

Breath and wanton fingertips

And wrinkled lips;

Then for the sunrise.

If wants nothing, but to be,

And it is.

Unlike so many paths carved into the

Worthless, gold pleated dirt.

I Am Alive.


When the smoke clears,

I see myself lying on the floor.

I am alone this night

And many after.

But not here, not in the dawn,

The ombre silhouettes

are sweet company;

and breathe me, slowly, gently,

back to life.

Here, I feel scrubbed clean of

Foolish decisions,

And shed this scaled skin

Armoured with beautiful, intricate lies.

The shedding aches.

It tears at me as I bleed and gasp,

Surprised at the pinprick pain, but,

I Am Alive.


We are creatures of original

And abounding light,

Forced to live and love and move

in the shadows,

in the dark.

But not here.

Not here in this dreamscape

That screams

And chirps and yawns

with a quiet and silent symphony

In a beat, simultaneously.

Here, etched in the dawn,

I Am Alive.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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