Once I heard the strumming waves
Crash across the hillside
The voices echoed tongue-in-cheek
Lashing through my isolation
I went
A knife, a light, my idea brought to life
The fear a subtle thrum to match
The empty roads a path confused
So I left them for the rapt adventure
I listened
The sounds a spector of tricks sincere
The ticks marched like candle lit markers
The property a traversed boundary
Easy and quiet I followed the sound
Like a fish from the depths
The tent city I came upon, lit by fires and
Satyr like smiles. Ingratiated I lifted spirits
The living dead and young life feedbags alike
Enjoyed the company of this traveler
And sent him home.
Back he went through the 3am moonlight
Traversing the hillsides, watching
And found he was being watched
Two eyes reflecting light in his sight
So an offering was made of blood
And now I'm real ******* tired

Trapped again
Willingly unnecessary
Distractions like a debtor
Too eager to collect
The **** am I thinking
Another way to escape today
To observe and play and pretend
It's greatly helping my ability
To move on
I see no problem letting go
But now I can't seem to grasp
The anvil above my head
Held aloft by tactics of procrastinating
Not to mention *******
Taciturn and speachless until the waves
Crashing in my poster bleed though
To the voices in my head
Telling tides of dread and woe
And excuses and commitment issues
And ****** muscles and stoic
Flourishes gesture to rend me an
Accomplice to unconsciousness.
Then I wake up two hours later
Dashing hopes that power taken
Is mistaken and time doesn't matter anyways
The tick tock counter gadget measures
My time aloft better than my irregular
Breaths and numbed heartbeats
I've fallen into the depths now
From a painted boat dashed upon the waves
Struggling to breath water and searching
For the spell.

Thinking thrashing thoughtless
Bubbles up, as if from the stinking pit
10 years, 2 years ago
2 nights of drunkenness
Keeps a warm light on past infringements.
So I sat on my delight
My delusion
My hopeful youth,
attending it's thousandth funeral
And hoping to fall in the pit this time
Inebriated and uncaring

and so I am again wonderig why
The whispers call to me dryly
I have finished my bottle of cheap whiskey
Why
I am bothered now when these plants sit idly
Bt
Have I, a hard time staring at myself
Why
I have nothing subtantial to prose though
Time
Is a scary eye full of what could happen
I own nothing.
I have earned a place in waste
My only skills include
Being amicable when pressure mounts
Visualizing paradise in the seeds I've found
May they learn a ******* lesson

Waves crash against
the glass they spill
onto the carpet

Another stain that will remain
Until the time of prophet

Was it deliberate?
A simple question from another
egocentric hipster delivers
The inept question of art

I just want to sleep at a regular hour
And push this ******* down
A flight of stairs

Or do I have that backwards

How polluted am I
Where even my apologies deflect the desires of remorse
Unable to show sincerity through effort
or through a screen
Could I have become an arrangement that pleases the hearts
of all seated around this vat which holds
my poisoned thoughts
They leak through, unbidden & vengeful
though perhaps there's another way
to set the blame to any other hidden face I miss
knowing that perhaps a brother fades ending
new regret trained to twist and
smother me with sinful grace
I'm so confused, I hate to muse and sift, peruse
my actions of good intent but fickle meaning
crazed enough to ponder them in public
these hidden feelings on my sleeve
I seem to be grinning without teeth
I am a scab unto the world,  I rip
slowly and with delectation
to cause a rift between the gift of people
that gave pause to lift in delegation
a blighted rebel wryly smiling
behind an icy wall of spit
I created

The log pedestal sits along the stream
Lonely, untouched & seething
It waits
Until the surface crawls the mossy touch
Infesting it's new creation unbidden
It craves
And plots the conquering of neigbors
And allies alike, in the name of decay
It fights
Adorned the decorated growth continues
never satiated accomplishment
I achieve
Until the wooded cradle shows only shape
The texture now a secret
Traveling the winding rivers edge
To tell stories hidden within the weave
I mote it be