Was that a blessing or
one of those superficial afflictions
that kept me moaning in agony
last night?

I mean, it showed me its teeth,
and I was gnashing mine...
But, like an eagle,
took me under its wing
and comforted me.

Stockholm syndrome.
Bypass everything else
and I'll show it affection.

It's cancer.
It's foolish excuse for relief.
It'll **** me, man, it will.

I saw the glimmer in your eyes
and the drops fall down your face.
"It's not like I've never seen you cry"
She knows something I don't,
and she'll admit something I won't.
She's alive, alright, but where did she go wrong?

Where did she go?

I can barely close my eyes.
I can barely taste your lips.
"It's not like you have to feel this way"
Now, my heart must skip a beat,
and my mind must go wandering
because if I'm not meant to feel this way,

I should let it go.

Won't you tell me what is wrong?
And tell me, what is right?
"You were right, I did not want to hurt you"
Just put your mask back on
and fall back into the waltz.
You're alive, but when were you so right?

We must let it go.

I fell prey to the promise of rest,
and I dreamt that
the birds fell through the sky -
they forgot how to fly.

I'll wake up
and the city skylight
will guide me home.

Where did you go?

I try to count the stars.
A vast selection of fossils.
C'est la vie, leviathans.
You burning orbs,
you want to comfort me?

I lay sheepless.
I'm a shepherd
who lost not one sheep,
not two sheep,
but the whole of them.

A moment left of silence
A calling of all the hard times and good poems
Chasing insects, living our years
Bleeding the same blood we have
I'm one more lonely boy in the heart of the sky
We're swimming in endless space

A moment left of madness
Flooding the same paths we've walked for days
Calling Jesus, falling on floors
Sleeping in the same winter clothes
You're one more broken girl in the eyes of a wolf
We're swimming in endless space

Let's pack our stuff in boxes
and watch the snow fall into place

You're becoming and comely.
My elixir of redundancy;
the effervescent efflorescence
of my eloquent pretentiousness.

Whatever.

I try too ******* hard to impress.

I miss you
sometimes.
Like all of the good books I've read,
you're collecting dust.
Your pages are turning yellow.
Jaundicepageskin.

Forward, Captain,
and the sea is yours.

You were once a street-lamp man.
Commander and Chief
of the nocturnal.
Of the neon ghetto.
Of the dime-bags,
the loan-sharks,
and the rotting estates.

Trunk of an off white sedan.
Gagged and tied
like a pig over flame,
melting off the skin.

The cement shoes
are a perfect fit.

Forward, Captain,
and the sea is yours.

A panda sit on the frozen water.
Another stares at me from the wall.
Two pandas.

Then my phone rings.
The bears sing!
And bees swarm from their mouths
and sting me with needles.

Needles full of ***!
LSD!
ACID RAIN!
ICE COLD *******!

And then there is no more pain.
Sleep comes.

The pandas sleep under my bed.

New snow falls
to the ground
that is covered
with old snow
that fell as
new as the
past is concerned
and freezes upon
the tree branches
and the tops
of buildings that
shimmer and sparkle
and dance with
the rays of
the cardinal sun

My blood flows through your veins.
Blood that once pumped through my heart.

The needle is impaled in your skeletal arm.

With reluctance I'm at your bedside.
My knuckles are white
clenching your hand.

You speak -
There's nothing left in me,
and there's nothing you can do.

While the others are asleep I call to you.
But there's nothing you can do.

The neighborhood hawk glides
gracefully over the dead ground.

He soars through the smoke of
my morning cigarette
My burning reminder of regret.

The hawk feels no anguish in the
haze
My haze.
That funnels above the dead ground.

Cracked and dry,
they perform my
craft.
Long after midnight.
Past the morning bird
which sings
"welcome, New Day".

Welcome, New Day
I've waited till dawn
to see that radiant
blink
of light.
Orange light
effortlessly fights
its way through
glass
to greet my eyes
with a passionate
exclamation.

Cracked and dry,
they absorb the orange.
Transfigured into smooth,
bone-wrappings.
My joints guide my
relief.

Past noon.
Afternoon.
Evening moon.

Midnight.
Long after midnight.
My eyes will
never
shut
or I would miss
the star of morning
and the bird's melodic
"welcome, New Day".