"Never again"

The final words uttered by the already dead.
A sickly colored scratch scuffed porcelain skin
as fountains poured out glinting in the starlight.

And finally, I cried to the moon and dug deep.

"Never again"

Live beyond the limits and
if you say goodbye they find
obtuse ramblings in your hand.

So pucker up buttercup
damnation to your consent;
you must now sip the queen's cup.

Or die trying, they don't mind
whether a bloom or wither
it's all sport to the confined.

Bonds form and tessellate among the weary ash.
A drip pan drifting onto a solemn scurry
as she wipes away the tears in forlorn flurry.
It looked upon her mantle with nostalgia and
she looked into its heart before prodding the beast.

It died before it lived in equal harmony.
No point in seeking ill will of the lepers.
But there might some semblance of resentfulness.
A bitter bile resting in lips who confess.  
Or maybe it’s an illusion of a locks and key.

A steady ebb and flow providing unrelenting release.
A single moment snarled by callous disbelief.
A lock of curled honey hair scattered in the ash.
A taste of a once dripping wound dried in sand.

These are the lines for which you fall.

No, these are the bricks within the wall.

This is a descent into paltry madness.

But only half is gone this we must confess.

Two pieces of him, you, and I.
Some grotesque being, a monster
stitched together by cobwebs and lye
But hush do not worry for we found her.

So a third is removed a piece cut out,
you know of his truths, desires, and loves,
but you did not know them, him, or me?
If you did it might be easier to confess
that perhaps we should turn the lock,
it's time to throw away the key.

Once was a lone ***** seated bedside,
a depressed nostalgia repressed in his mind
as with a whisper his weary bones creaked
and he slipped once again into lower tide.

Upon his face rested an eye filled with pus
and his few greasy locks glued down gently
upon a brow cracked and creased
holding a number of sores so superfluous.

He smiled but it would not reach his soul
as his shoulders slumped and quivered while
arthiritic hands reached upon a mantle
and a synapse snapped losing further control.

He grasped at a picture with suicidal glee,
black and white, two children sat smiling
a boy and a girl one vaguely familiar.
A drop hit the photo, blood, sweat, tears, or
in-between.
His fingers stroked the dust filled image
and he hissed,
"I love you so much more than you have ever known me."

Don't believe a songbird.
Or, taste a nectar foiled by
a dream on a glazed afternoon
whispered but not heard.

Touch the bottom of this
hospital bed and spit
on everything you knew.
Surely, you'll sorely miss.

Clench your toes in the tulips,
and your hands idle in grass
tickling nature's hair, not hers;
this love, all within your fingertips.

Don't remember the days
Where the moon held the sun
firmly in its elusive courtship.
But beg to recapture that gaze.

Keep myself away, for I never change.
Still I prematurely fall in love with
the one whose life I'm unable to grasp.
A word and smile behind this blank mask
that you wear so proudly, so very well.

Still I imagine "what if" and "will you..."
Non-existence, nothing but a fantasy
Even this poem has no rhyme nor reason
But I merely want you to feel about me
The way this poem makes me feel about
You.