My Own Demise

 Wrapped in love and filled with tenderness you were more than any dream I could have conjured. 

I would have held you until the end of time, 

but time came and snatched you away, 

now I spend my nights holding loneliness clutching at your memory. 

Coldness most foul grips me now filling me at all times hidden from the view of others, 

its corruption seeps in through the cracks. 

You can see it in the eyes of other that get to close, 

they may not spot it but you can see the understanding of wrongness written across her face.  

The men of old could swallow this and turn into stones then hang it like armor from around the neck. 

The ever-pounding waves of weakness assaults the senses with each step, 

every minute; 

it ebbs and flows with days and weeks as placid as a looking glass but ready to change in an instant back to the torrent smashing at the rocks. 

The fate of Icarus is the plight of us all, 

a sunrise was never meant to last the whole day through. 

You keep it in a box in your pocket and take it out to look at in the dark, 

like a fading star it lives in half-life’s, 

its systematic dimming pronouncing the eventuality of one day winking out.  

Encroaching fear to be left in the darkness once more with its hard rhythmic drum beat, 

the empty scream dies in the throat with only the passing strangers wearing masks of confusion that try and stoke a long forgotten fire, 

with no wood to burn the heat turns back on you leaving long blisters hidden from the eye but strapped across the soul. 

Each bite turns sour in the mouth, 

you can tell all by the fruit corruption touches all as it spreads from the root. 

Pain should be burned down to its foundation then filled over with hard cement to hold the beasts at bay. 

Each day peals away from the one befour leaving nothing in its wake, 

the cold emptiness to great you each morning with the hope to great the dawn without the dark and grisly thoughts.

The Long Night

Are you another false dawn in this endless night, 

without stars I sail blind and feel the rocks but dare not turn away, 

compelled forward like the moth, 

is that what awaits the seared wings only to fall again, and again. 

Why does evil only suck at your bones it chews at the marrow settling in deep, 

it takes the back seat, 

but it is always close whispering just over the shoulder. 

Never the same way twice, 

the gushing torrent or the drip, drip, drip; 

its price is always hidden deep in the folds where the compass only spins struggling to find its direction. 

Beginnings are delicate, soft, weak and unable to stand on their own. 

On broken legs you cannot stand, 

life’s quicksand is subtle and unforgiving never free of the past its dark brushes paint unforgiving futures’; 

to weak to end it but to strong to lie down. 

Replace life with walking undeath misplaced musings drip from the pores filling the senses with heat, 

years of living with ghosts leave the mouth crooked and tie your thoughts in knots. 

The shattered glass of the future casts off a thousand reflections where truth becomes the spear that you impale yourself upon as you wander in the perpetual gloaming.  

With sightless eyes you scan the horizon looking for what has already come, 

waiting for the darkness to settle in. 

The breath of possibility is hot on the neck with dreams of undiscovered tomorrows dancing like candy plumbs, 

a shadow stage to disappear like vapor when grasped for. 

The fool’s palace,

decorated in the hopes of the idiot 

and dreams of the moron.

Don’t feed the Lions

Corruption eats everything,

it bleeds slowly into the soul.

Darkness has a weight it piles up like winter wood and burs hot in the deep of night.

 

Your words still haunt me.

 

My prayers went unanswered,

you did not become the miracle exception instead I led you through hell,

your own Josef Mengele.

 

I take it apart like a finished chess game,

so many missed moves,

looking backward gives no clarity just drags you into the phantom zone.

 

Pray death comes for you unaware for he is mean when you look him in the face.

 

I am lost at finding this lesson or is this not my lesson.

 

I pull it out and give it form,

how much of their love did Midas or Medusa still befour they had to act.

 

Nothing good comes from sinew,

I don’t know if endless paper is a blessing or a curse.

 

A better man would have taken that all away from you at the beginning,

never would have led you down a hopeless road.

Is the memories constant regurgitation just the dog returning to its vomit?

Your Automaton

It’s been wrung out and left to dry in the hot sun. 

If you are a surgeon and not a psychopathy burning ants to see what happens; 

What are you building. 

I wake up feeling like Frankenstein’s monster than some better form of myself, 

It’s the puzzle half perceived. 

Seasons changes, 

Summers heat fades, 

Yet the darkness is ever present. 

Morning comes and then the slow churn returns. 

To close to tragedies magnetic pole leaves the minds compass blind with a half a step from madness. 

You had the best version there is no 2.0 that could be better than what you had. 

Only thing left is broken file structure and corrupted memory, 

You can’t rebuild with ash but that is all that is left. 

I have always been moving toward a destination, 

Now I spin endlessly 

I’m perpetually too drunk laying back with my eyes closed, 

Only the nausea is missing. 

To many nights asking why left me in a staring competition with the floor, 

You don’t answer question only pose them. 

The load bares easer, 

It’s strange like noticing the dawn, 

When you take note, its already begun. 

I wanted with all that I had in me to be what you reflected in your eyes. 

I could summon your phantom and fill its mouth with my words, 

Let it coo me to sleep or berate me into the corner. 

I bring you less and less, 

To many years of living with your ghost I think has taken its toll. 

If it were easy then everyone would try it, 

True beauty is like the sandcastle, 

Enjoyed for a time but the waves of life are always approaching to erase it.

Missing You

 Drowning in memories, the weight of them can pull you down at times. Running 

Held to life with the many ropes of the Lilliputian, 

Where the dogs no longer bark, and the clothes hang from the empty line. 

Years of running forward leave one unprepared for the sudden stop that comes with impact. 

Even when going off the unavoidable cliff your mind is still caught in disbelief. 

Just as misery eats itself and multiplies, 

Happiness is only sweet when shared an embrace that sets deep into the soul. 

The reverse OZ, 

Watching the color drain from the world around you, 

Staining your eyes with too many unfinished yesterdays. 

The minds puzzle of the abstract future, 

To many dark alleys leading nowhere. 

Solitude is the nectar not the insipid parade of faces shining with back glow of vapid thoughts, 

The circus with no audience. 

Strength is sapped carrying to many bags marked for other destinations as mock platitudes are swallowed like stones with each one laying the foundation for the next brick on your road to nowhere.

Forgotten dreams only come out during the day waiting like crouching tigers pouncing with the passing wisp of a fragrance or the hint of a melody from a well-loved song. 

Arms cling to empty promises forged in the heat of passion that turn to dust as you inhale. 

Days stack like wood with each one passing before it began, 

Lost moments do not return you watch them as the cut deep lines into your face’s reflection. 

Grasping at shadows that disappear in the noonday sun, 

Fingers slip past uninterested hands each holding their own solitary funeral. 

Days are not new they are built of the bones of the past and the promise of the new while always living in the unchanging present.