Curds & Whey

It’s the how without the why, 

You’re the unrequited future, 

The closed door. 

I follow the idiots mistake filled with three parts fool and one part jack rabbit. 

The backwards game that always ends before it begins. 

My broken strings only play sour notes leading to grasping at shadows that fade at the touch. 

Lived through to many winters to walk the empty roads leading to nowhere, 

It’s what happens when one is left with nothing left to give, 

Only the soul left to find to place in line for the chopping block. 

The empty cup offered up, again and again, a beggar's trade. 

A tattered heart has no home and finds no shelter. 

It would seem only the lost find each other, 

The chance encounters yet unable to recognize one another when they pass. 

Without resolve one becomes lost in the moment that never returns, 

The dream of infinite tomorrow’s that became yesterday’s regret. 

Never confused for Don Juan, or Don Quixote. 

When you burn hot it overheats the mind, 

Leaving the mouth grasping for words that never come and what does come out sideways and bitter to the ear. 

A chest full of skeletons is enough to keep anyone at bay.

It’s a fool’s errand, after tasting it once I can’t stop myself for pray that lighting strikes twice; it’s nectar which leaves all other taste rancid in the mouth. 

Only the blind, deaf, and dumb walk in the direction of the unwanted.

Chasing Windmills

It’s the shattered kiss that never was,

Footprints trod away from closed windows as living whispers disappear in the winds of tomorrow.

Caged inside the fathomless depths

Chasing the inverse goal with blackened eyes from sudden impact that bleed into the whole.

Days dissolve into oblivion

Where only Nietzsche eyes could see past its abyss,

The shadows stay but then never leave,

Only asking for the blood drained from the long slow flaying of the mind's eye.

Direction can’t be found when you drown yourself in empty pools of yesterdays.

They say the strong tree stands against the wind,

But I have found that it is the flood that eats away at the roots

Cutting through the tough bark exposing the empty hallow within.

The longing for light still crouches beneath the vision

Leaving nothing as it passes empty rooms

Where cobwebs replace the laughter,

Trading gold for penny’s

Where its price is never paid

And the only door is closed.

Forlorn Life

The deeper the comment the more one loses,

The more that is sipped away from the body,

A devil’s trade,

Blood for blood.

Torn down and rebuilt,

Split down the middle with nothing left.

You watch with a doctor’s mind,

Detached,

The errant thoughts beg for mercy.

The sum does not equal the whole,

The straight path became bent and crooked,

Lost in the backward miles

The unfettered mind cutting down what stands against it.

Your jagged remains stitched into itself,

A second skin,

Tight and narrow at the seams,

A descent that should impress even Dante.

Lost on the other side of the looking glass,

When you drink too deeply of the never-ending loss its tumor houses itself where your mind had dwelt in the stupid years of happy slumber.

Metal knows metal,

Like a river finds the ocean,

Broken pieces go once more into the forge

Its unbroken cycle shaving off the meat leaving only the hardened bone beneath,

An animated corpse.

With no mind it moves on will and impulse alone,

Lead forward by natures unending force.

The plow of shattered dreams spread forward with each step,

The sweet poison only a mother could love.

The Laughing Tiger

I feel your smile deep in my minds eye,

Hiding under the shadows of thoughts and

In-between solitary silences.

You’re the warning before the fall the,

The laugh at the pain,

The ever-present reminder.

You never lead to good;

Your smile only exposes the unavoidable doors

To rooms ready to shatter

From the heaves and throws of life.

Would be better to have been born without ears

Than to hear your mocking indignation,

I am sure that you wouldn’t be deterred

A malevolence that knows no bounds

Your cup of hemlock always ready for my lips.

I should not have met your silence with my own quiet contentment,

In the interim you took everything but my soul.

Your laugh came back with the blood that wouldn’t end,

The weekly bathroom murder

Unanswered until ashes fill the grave.

No exorcism in this life,

No fiend to be released,

You and I are one.