they beckon me
they whisper as I sleep
touch my shoulder
with unseen fingers
sending waves of dead static through my soul
the after
the in-between
the remaining energy
reaching for some connection
to their mortal coil
they find solace in my belief
a ground for their whispering pulse
the remnants of a soul once lived
the static that refuses to leave
completely

From the rooftop
I see the houses sleeping in moonlight

(My chance ascent to the roof
for a space to be aloof
begets this poem)

I know this stillness is deceptive

behind the half glow neon panes
or the wooden ones shut tight from light
beyond the dumb walls of white
tears and smiles are flowing
also grunts of despair
moans of flesh upon flesh
stopping at the skin
or going far down to that misty spot
and even far past all them
two hearts holding the flame
of years buried on the bed
a child still in their head
or there but really not there
somewhere too wide to build a bridge

(Thirty minutes past nine
the toy houses in the moonlight shine
in their chambers holding life not seen)

And I atop one such house know
it's time to go down the stairs
to take up the script again
and write and act and write
for the length of night.

it is early morning at the beach
1:12 am to be exact
everyone else has gone beddy bye
and I can't sleep yet
because this is my time
where I live and breathe and think
without others doing the same and talking about it
all I can see through the sliding glass balcony door
is a liberty gas station across the street playing elevator
music at the pumps and selling insurance
that saves you 415 dollars a year
it's too cloudy to look for UFO's and the sherbert has all been eaten
so I decided to write something
I've reminded everyone what a nut case I am
hearing spirits and ripping politicians a new one
were pretty much my topics of conversation
I will say this...my sister's tacos were amazing
they over shop every year but **** they can cook

it's almost 1:30 and they will be rattling the breakfast dishes by 8
so I better get my crotchety old *** in bed
******* better get here early in the morning to fix
the **** washing machine
I only brought 3 pair of underwear

now
let me get started on this life changing poem
it is early morning at the beach...

a very thin veil
divides the living and the dead
a very tight thread

this I discovered in the depths of night
when she turned out the light
to pit fear against will

if you wither from thee
you will hear not her plea
in the softest of voice
'I hear you '

a whisper of a whisper
within the whisper of sighs
believer I am as I feel her eyes
upon me

light was returned
my nerve tested and worn
soul beautifully stirred
this night I was born

as the veil was lifted

the memories
at least those pre - incept date
are presented in shuffle mode
designed to initiate during down time
when heart rate slows
less random and more vivid than human
Roy had no idea
until now
that he could very well be dying
he seemed to be thinking outside the realm
of typical replicant query

why were his dreams ending before completion
his ravenous appetite diminishing
his fixation with the moon now fading

death comes quickly to the replicant
no long suffering illness
many humans must face
the clock stops ticking
and the implants die first
leaving the final few moments
all his, all Roy

were his tears
like his memories
lost in rain
perhaps his most human trait
is revealed in his final moments
the acceptance of death
amid the realization he had lived