on the way back to the mainland
I met a man who said he could see angels

I dismissed this as fairytale
but he was adamant

now as dark waters of night gather in
I remember him

and realise I am still crossing

angels 2

angels walk among us
of that I am sure
be advised
that while their beauty heals
it can hurt you even more

and now I find that life
is meaningless
because one told me so

angels walk among us
of that I am sure


in the end there is nothing
but the beauty of angels
worn down and moss covered
in the garden of remembrance
we went to as kids
to smoke and drink wine in

now clean out of time
I’m no closer
to understanding why
death has more followers
than anyone