Drops Left

He carries a scythe to cut you down 

Hard and fast while in the prime of life. 

I tried to chase after you in my clumsy disjointed fashion, 

But you never turned back to see. 

It never leaves you no mater the size or the weight, 

Once it’s created with enough pressure 

It forms a scar that you take with you ever after. 

People never leave your life as quietly as they enter. 

It is possible to lose yourself in future plans 

To hide from the reality that tomorrow is only a day away. 

You find the it needs space, 

You give it an office, 

Or it takes the living room. 

One doesn’t give the truth to another 

When they continue to lie to themselves. 

The dog days never leaveeeeee, 

They chase you throughout your life 

Always nipping at your heal. 

Yesterday’s debts are never cashed out; 

They lurk in the shadows on the summer afternoon 

Waiting for just enough darkness to come back to retrieve its pound of flesh. 

Nothing changes while you remain the same. 

Where do you find change 

When you wear the same skin day after day, 

You can never outrun yourself. 

Keep looking for a beginning 

But none are found 

When you have gone past the finish.

empty bottle

Solutions don’t find you

The blank stare that greats you from the mirror.

The broken record continues to play

The static hum that fills the space between the ears.

 I liked hearing your thoughts, it saddens me that you didn’t like mine.

The jacket, too warm to wear inside but I don’t want to take it off.

Fish moving into the net looking for the dinner table they never knew they wanted.

Thoughts bunch up like twigs in a stream

Another fat egg falling off the wall

The pieces were left out

The rats made off with the good bits

A slow simmer of the stone soup left out with no one coming

Another delinquent reminder of what’s crumbled beneath your weight.

I set the fish free to fill another mans wishes.

Bite the hand so it knows riding hood was always right

The emptiness is what takes you in the end

not with its cunning or guile

but through the slow drip of apathy 

You either die the hero or live long enough to become the villain.  

 

Seppuku

It takes small bites, 

Only nibbling at the edges, 

The beginnings don’t change. 

They suck the blood of the past 

To create a dream 

That was never meant to become,

 Churning out another half-baked idea

 That no one wanted 

And was never asked for. 

Falling sand, 

Passing through my fingers, 

With each grasp I hold less and less 

Until you disappear from me completely. 

I wanted you to stay 

Once the mask began to slip away 

You did as well; 

Were you only seeking the illusion 

That reflection of my former self. 

Am I just the dog 

Once again returning to its vomit, 

The broken clock 

Who is only right twice a day. 

Succumb again to the nothing 

It tugs once more 

To pull my insides out 

I’ll adorn them again, 

For no one to see but myself. 

Let the vapid smile and the biting scowl 

Keep them at bay; 

The stupid and the busy 

Only see what they are already looking for. 

Always ready to fall for the next story fitting their internal narrative, 

Eyes closed and oblivious to what they surround themselves with. 

I watch as others 

As they move like serpents through life 

Never hindered or deterred, 

Never a snag to catch them or hold their forward progress back. 

When I move I roll like a bolder 

Down life’s hill crushing or maiming 

Anyone unlucky enough to have come near. 

Fools Dance

Once again pick up where you never were. 

The hallways have finally emptied out. 

They only came for the spectacle, 

eat your peanuts, 

sit back and watch todays disembowelment. 

The single finger salute 

finally slammed the door 

blocked out the the light. 

Find the peace 

that only comes at the end of the knife, 

the empty room 

that shouts and shouts 

until your ears fill with blood 

While your heart empties out. 

In another life, 

at another time, 

things would have been different, 

more patience would have been left on the table; 

put the bargain to father time, 

once again defining insanity 

when we already know the results. 

I tried to keep pace 

but with each step you only grew father away. 

My legs have grown short, 

to many years of mismanagement 

going the wrong direction 

had taken away any sense of purpose. 

Maybe you never intended to stop 

only to slow down and wave at the passers by, 

like JackieO before Dallas 

or Dianna before the tunnel. 

Was this all just part of the journey, 

the monster under the bed, 

the horse that never escapes the sorrow. 

Do you let go or follow him under, 

does it even matter. 

If the end just cycles back to the beginning 

then I want to flip it over 

start another song.

I had so wanted you to be someone, 

for a brief moment I thought maybe… 

I have always been the fool, 

just waiting for the next huckster to come along, 

just another idiot dancing for the king.