Thirty days tomorrow,
a slightly disheveled gait.

And the debt to be paid
In waking to the painful knowing
That noone wants closure.

It's waking every day.
Waking sober.

Woke up and made my way to the shore.
Take a seat.
I'll never find where I rested before.

Only one new change not in mind but heart.
All knowing.
A hand touches my shoulder.

What do I want?
Spare my soul to adventure
An enlightened child,
Playing dress up as mentor

Denying my hand
Casts doubts on my words
No wager to fold
Fated souls might endure

She will be beautiful.

I use to look at your picture every day.
Then four times a week.
As of tomorrow,
I'll have almost made two weeks.
A long time passed.
Excruciating.

I'm not OK
They pay me to be.

I planted tulips last spring.
They weren't for you,
But I thought they could be.

The tulips bloomed again
Three red, one yellow.
As bright as your carnation
On prom night yellow.

The tulips bloomed too early
Hence the wilting.
I said I'd pull the weeds and tend.
It's almost been two weeks.
Excruciating.

This place is a run down, poorly lit bus stop on the wrong side of town. You're stranded at birth and die waiting on the bus home.

It suits me just fine.

Dear Mary. Dear Theresa. Dear Eve.

I write to you to see
My daily reminder
To be sovereign

Test not the waters
Waves will brake alone

Let Mary talk. She needs this
The world listens.
Man need not be present

Dear Diary,

We were hunters. Free.
How could one soaked in blood
Enraged with life
Contrive such marital obligations?

Do we dedicate ourselves to such,
Or simply ones self?

Give her a year, give her a day.
Give her a minute.
Give unto women that of which is woman's.

Give it a rest.
He spoke, 'Let the dead bury the dead'

Dear God,

Like the birds in the field I do not worry
Return my rib
I give not. I detest.

Beneath a Weeping Willow
Such Vines do not Twist,
Peer Out from the Shade!
Be Freed by It's Allure
Dampening the Earth It's cast Upon

There, In Broad Day
Dancing in the Streets
Cheering for Silence
All Books and Statues
and Sons, Fair Game

Fear Them you Cannot
The Eyes Do Not Spare
Distant Figures bob,
and Sway
and Twist to knots

Could be One's Eyes
Be It the Flowing Vines
Sure of Myself, or
More-so of the Willow's
Trickling Streams,
Hung with Care
Still, yet Overflowing

No, Eyes do not Betray!
The Mind cannot Return
and still Dance
For Too the heart,
Here, Trapping Water's reign
Set to Betray It's prison


Tomorrow, The Cleanup Comes
Brothers, We'll Hear Our names
And Rise from the Mud
By Design or by decision

Echoes, Sounds in Every Room
Shall Haunt us with The Present
Declaring All the While, "Better had they never learned,
Time is a Gift,      Until it Isn't"