Hello my comfort through dark
Episodes,through depression and
Loathing, I've missed your solace, your
Loquacious eloquence.
Opining my misery

Profuse prose poetry attempting to heal
Open wounds,
Emitting sorrow and loneliness
Take me back as an errant lover, the lost and
Raving raven of old and,
Y**ore, tell me repeatedly, that nevermore will we part.

Oscillating timekeeper ticks and tocs.
Pendulous seconds bumping time forward on the face of a clock.
Father Time, that Patriarchal chronometer
that martyr, master, commander and observer.
Watch the clock, it's moved forward, did you notice time moving?
Father Time so old, and bearded, a scythe by his side waiting to cull.
Waiting is dull.
Time is a lull, a lullaby before you die.
Cronus never steps back, always marches forwards
and we the human race, suspended in time, and space
watch the clock, wishing more time away with regret,
whilst watching the clocks face.

Today is grey.
Today is cold.
Today is getting old,
soon it will be tomorrow,
but tomorrow never comes.

Tomorrow will be the same.
Tomorrow will be today.
Tomorrow the date only will change,
I'll charge my glass to the coming morrow
Same day same sorrow

Staring through the bottom of a glass
tomorrow is far away.
Tomorrow is not grey, but a whiskey gold
staring at tomorrow through the bottom of a glass
tomorrow is not old, just another day.

No host of golden daffodils do I see when I look around me.
Just the debris of a life, cut short by a knife.
I wandered lonely not over vale, but over my body
Lying prone on the floor, no breath does it host anymore.
My eyes gaze sightless into the distance,
a sphinx upon the waste land of the laminated floor.
My hair limp, not fluttering in the breeze, my blood cooling into a pool
my death scene, gives such chills, that renders even golden daffodils pale
Death does indeed ride a pale horse.
He shows no remorse.
Wilted in a vase, wasted on the floor, I await my light, my open door.

Haunted, I see you in my dreams
Haunted I see you in the street
Haunted I see you all around me

How can that be?
Since I've left your corpse in the cellar
And I have the key.

"Trick or Treat"
Clamorous voices demand at the door.
A cry that you've heard so many times before.
You open the door face plastered with a grin.
Wishing you could cull this rabble and stop
their screeching babble.
Sweets doled out,  "be safe" you shout at their backs,
after all you wouldn't want to be hacked by a ******!

Knock-Knock**
Its sound echoes all around.
You hate these midgets at your door
looking cute and asking "give us more"
You'd love to keep the door closed,
but well then you're known as the weird house.
So adjusting face and keeping pace you open the door,
only to be heard of no more.