Oh to love the chilled touch of winter turned to spring.
Slush dusted slabs containing multitudes of grey.
Recollections of Summer, form mist brushed past ones lips
as the air idly dances, across another morning missed.

A faint whistle breaks through a preview of green,
and somewhere strangers don one final jacket.
Long-aching bones grow less brittle moment to moment,
and finally, friends one and all feel faintly more fantastic.

Parchment frayed, edge crumbled to silky ash.
A single candle’s flicker caught dancing
to whispers from dust crackling their secrets.

The window sweats, powdered by evening snow.
His droplets quench the thirst of the rotted floor.
A mouse scurries, elated for its flow.

Etched in the corner, a rope swings freely.
Held together by habit above all.
Beneath it rests nothing more than shade.

Softly spoken secrets, scattered and stained.
A thorn’s thoughtful gaze casting its judgment.
There is no moral here left to be gained.
She may try, but no more shall she repent.

Seconds, minutes, brushstrokes drawing the dawn.
Each moment wasted by her hesitance.
“What does it all mean? Is it truly gone?
Or perhaps it’s just cheap happenstance.”

A facsimile. Mere memories of you.
She blinks her eyes, and greets the morning dew.

Pockets greased with the blood of the displaced.
A rotund belly fed by their lost meals.
His echoed demands for equality
squashed beneath his own shining leather boot.

Play in the mud rub dirt in that old scab.
Let the rainwater wash it all away again.
It's okay to dance; feel the wind in your breath.
Plaster that smile, glue on that grin.
Trust me, it'll purge us of all our sin.

Have yourself a wonderful little life.

The ash of a putrid cigarette's smoke
stained the air, yellowed pockmarks upon its flesh.

A home kept warm by cancer and rats,
their sighs a chorus within the rafters.

An unloved daughter silently brushed her hair.
Do you ever wonder, was she here or there?

In a world so vast, it's painfully small.
There is no peace when the cycle carries on.

The ebb and flow of de-

Enough. We're merely wasting your time
Return to bed. Soon enough the sun shall rise.

Chapped lips bleed, dripping down her marble skin.
Staining the square as she takes one last drag.

Across the way a young man's lost within,
wandering the catacomb of her gaze.

Moonlight bathes her spirit, purging its sin.
Though it's useless, for she rests in its shade.

The wall's eyes trace what remains of his grin,
knowing in this moment, they dare not blink.

His tongue grows cold and his skin paper thin,
while his lead-filled eyelids chain him to dirt.

Chapped lips bleed, dripping down her marble skin,
staining the square as she takes one last drag.

Thank you little Marcy, my perfect M&M,
for showing these bones the sun yet again.
My velvet angel, you’ve let me touch the sky.
My little girl, you’ve made diamonds trickle down my eye.
What a wonder, what a magical world,
where you draw a breath, my darling little girl.

Oh how a rotted home aches.
Floorboards agonize,
their faces betray
a life's frozen mirth.

A shattered window,
caked in cobweb
calls to her daughter in the wind.

Footprints erased by dust.
Photographs wilted and grey.
Oh how a rotted home aches.

A life held softly, briefly in my hand.
Tantalizing, sweet, composed of my dreams.
Oh what I would give to taste it again.

Look me in the eye and whisper the word.
Tell me everything you want me to hear.
Two truths and one more lie, it matters not.
For the end I fear is becoming clear.

Candlelight and wax coated angel eyes.
Shadows dancing to an unspoken rhyme.
He whispers her name with velveteen sighs.
They clutch this moment forgotten in time.

Oh glory! Oh rose-tinted winter bliss.
How is it you fill a room with your grace?
Rest upon her cheek lies a snowflake's kiss.
Its warm trail leaving sparkles in her face.

Make peace and know, everything is okay.

The party's lights are dim.
Smoke hovers in the air.
I want to hold your hand.
I wish you were still here.

Cutting through the summer haze,
The love we hold again.

Slowly the shadow approaches the Glen.
Wrapping lilies in its arthritic hands.
A hush falling upon those in his wake.

Frost encrusts the grass lost beneath your feet.
A songbird falls from the sky, lost in ash.
The sun is silent, and all time stands still.

The scene fades into shadowed nothingness.
The night is calm, the day is cold. Alas.

Which one of you will remember her name?
Will your minds recall by the fireside?
Will you press her softly against your lips?

Leave your secrets buried in the soil.
Let your glowing embers forever burn
Learn the lesson conjured by the old men.

Truthfully, nobody will get it right.
Yet tell yourself, "still now we have to try."

We bid farewell to you.

Oh, what I wouldn't give
to hear your whisper
offer even one more lie.

A final hum of the furnace quivers;
its flame casts solitude in sharp relief.
A pondering pledge of endless bitters.
The final moments of endless belief.

We arrive at the dawn of the sixth moon.
Seven and twenty years frozen in time.
A hatchet comes down, its time shall come soon.
Finally, we reach the end of this rhyme.

What the hell did I do?

Time dilates and your smile remains.
I dream of the day you'll hold it again.
Free the swallow from your throat.
Take my hand and put on your coat.
I guarantee, we shall find a better place.
I guarantee, we shall find a better time.

Tell me darling, can you taste upon your lips
the ashes of a million moments missed?
Do the memories still cry out your name?
Can you still recall the last time we kissed?

You once said lightning comes in a bottle,
while handing over my heart in a jar.
To this day I still hold it in my hands,
nestled to my chest, I wonder where you are.

I may never again taste life's sweet honey.
Weave the wicker basket's ringlets through the air.
Cigarette smoke offers a simple echo.
And I question what left I have to spare.

A whispering brook drifting by my ear.
Tells me all your secrets, shows me your curse.
The songs it sings embrace this fetid earth.
Oh what I would give to rest in its depths.
Lay my head down gently, and treasure its worth.

Why do we do the things that we do?
Why is it always just me and you?
I wonder, I ponder, I play in the sand.
I look for the answer on the back of my hand.

Tell me your secrets, tell me your lies.
Tell me why we never really say goodbye.

Don't fall in love
with the life that you live.
Sit idly by and stare.
Let the static ferment.
While your ironclad wall stands tall.
Mark the days down in chalk
until the the lead burnt dust
makes acquaintance with your chin.

Love once
And
Never
Again

Come home
Darling.

I am a man made up of
beginnings and ends,
flesh and bone,
friends of the dead.

I whisper to my sweet little Valentine,
Miss must I be so maligned?

And so, it goes, it goes, it goes,
until the end of time.

I hear nothing more than the echoes
of when you were mine.

I sang a simple song today.
Fingers laced together,
honey-soaked marbled whispers,
lost photographs drifting down a forest creek.

Silence sank in.
Static tore at my beggar's brain.
Ink blots stained his cheek.
I looked down on him yet again.
He looked at me and smiled with relief,

and uttered

"I must ask.
Are we the lock?
Or the key?"

I do not long for moments lost.
I long for losses yet to come.

I'm sick of happy endings.
I want to find tomorrow's end.
Erase the cobwebs from my mind,
and let me roll the dice again.

Perhaps a left where once was right
will shine the light across the stain.
A steadfast shot of happiness.
A single puddle in the rain.

The idle hum of crickets
Singing static in my ear.

Helium's silent snake-like hiss
cutting deep into my scars.

I look up at fading winter's star
and hold each moment
tight within my arms.

Please, listen.

I can still taste the scent of yesterday.
The supple marmalade within your eyes.
A half united, a half sweetly divides.
Concrete angels, hands held, spirited away.
I will begone, I will climb this rock alone.
I will pray, for my sins I must atone.

No one understands the lone *****'s song.
No one visits the grave sat in the sand.
No one covets the cancerous man's hand.
No one imagines a feeling so strong.

Remember these words, and please, wear them well.
Remember these words, and descend into hell.

Alone in the dust a blind man ponders.
Ash dusting his beard, he solemnly stares.
All memories fade in constant wander.
A single wish, allow him one last care.
Please sir, please, bring her back by his bedside.
Please sir, please, just tell him she hasn't died.

He screams, an achy breath lost to the wind.
He pounds his fists and cries to the heavens.
Oh lord, in what ways must this man have sinned?
To awake this wrath-filled Armageddon?  
He does not know, he cannot say, but yet
He truly loves her, his heart's lost life's bet.

Pray for this man, in your dreams, in your sleep.
Pray for lost love you never got to keep.

I would very much prefer it
if
the color of your eyes were
not
etched so vividly into
mine.

The moon speaks cautiously through my window.
Whispered promises caress my blind eyes.
I wish I could hold the silk-spun hand.
I wish I was still afraid to die.
Farewell, I'll see you on the other side.

A phantom edges to the precipice.
Every forgotten word upon his lips.
A singular scar graces his spirit.
A shade of grey painted across his brow.
The winter wind chills to his bitter bones.
The fog descends upon his stubbled chin.
He takes a breath, and a solemn swan-dive,
until he greets his dearest friend, the ground.
Softly tasting the view from halfway down.

Poor little pilgrim with your dough-like arms.
May your fetid brain rot within your terms.
I beg of you to find your young solace.
Or kiss the cheek of a God in the streets.
Pledge around this world, around this domain.
March to your merry, melancholy beat.
Oh how I love you, my boy can't you see?
Across all plains we go, just you and me.

Somewhere in a soft suburban pocket
there lives a pair of sweet, sinless, sisters.
Sheltered from the battered world's whirlwind.
Tucked warmly within their Garden of Eve.
Oh, what a shame. The madman knocks at their door.
Oh, what a shame. The shadows stain their floor.
Burdened by a butchered artist's remains,
He offers a gun and a grin.
He steps across their stoop, invading from within.

They never stood a chance.
They're never gonna last.

Nobody escapes his grease-laced grip.
Nobody suspects the sin of Shin.

What do you surmise I spy in your eyes?
An opal? A sapphire shattered sea?
Perhaps a dream, merely nothing at all.
I do not know, I cannot say but still,
I love you at the end of the day.

I am the culmination of your sin.
The ***** wearing your past's blood-stained furs.
Through greed, gluttony, lust,
I am what remains.
Pride, wrath, envy, sloth
all soak my skin within their reign.

I am the shadows of your teenaged rebellion.
I am the first and final bricks within the wall.
I am the ash burnt, rotting your lungs.
I am the unfired gun left rusted at your feet.
I am the final words uttered through your lips.
I am the silhouette etched in your sheets.
I am God of all that I am.
I am nothing.
I am everything.
So, please take my hand.

The world is filled with monsters, men, martyrs,
and everything in-between.
Each occupies a space on the chess board
knowing not what it means.

Each piece holds happily ever after.
Each piece holds a love-filled soul with a grin.
Each piece holds skeletons in their rafters.
Each piece holds an unforgivable sin.

We spend our life idly introspecting.
We cast our net in search of love's warm hand.
We burn bridges, and march on towards Spring.
We search far and wide for peace within the sand.

Every version of me
Loves
Every version of you.

Yesterday.
Today.
Tomorrow.

I love you.

Partners.
Friends.
Strangers.

I love you.

We are always watching little sinner.
Look out your window at the old oak tree.
Do you see that faint goldenrod glimmer?
Embers leaping from the branches in threes.

You see and understand how close we are.
We stand here, waiting to strike from afar.

You will know nothing but paranoia.
As long as you breathe we're comin for ya.

Resting blindly with smoke staining his teeth,
a white flag stuffed in his jeans' back pocket.
a tongue tied, trapped by the words underneath.
He holds tightly to a rusted locket.

Placing it nestled closely to his chest.
He smiles for life. It's truly his best.
He smiles for love. He shall hold it yet.
He smiles for light. He will not forget.

Come now.
Chin up.
Eyes wide.
Stomp on.
Dance boy.
Dance boy.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.

Do not fear the silence of solitude.
Embrace it as a father his lost son.
Allow it to consume you in its chill.
For better or worse it shall shape your soul.

Thank your stars for each moment spent alone.
Learn to love your mind, and call it your home.
If not it shall destroy you.
You shall be nothing but sin.

The ink of these letters soak through parchment
leaving stains on the maple underneath.
You look down at them on a later day,
and wonder what it was you'd thought to say.

May you please lay my weary head to rest
as the blade erupts with rubies in Spring.
I sit in my ivory tower's nest,
pulling puppets by their shadow-spun string.

I ponder and play, squeezing idle joy.
Wondering, perhaps I shall see you soon.
If not, I return to my tepid ploy.
A sallow moth, rotted in his cocoon.

A clock strikes and the siren's song erupts.
Yellow wallpaper reveals my sin's seams.
I close my eyes and this fear I shall disrupt.
I must embrace the love within my dreams.

Draw a line in the sand and sleep upon
its precipice.
Bury its words in a soup of your blood
and prejudice.

Cast your gaze to the horizon with the
blossoming truth.
Shades of purple, red, and yellow reflect
your waning youth.

Whisper to the wind, let it draw your words
across her mind.
Softly smile, let the chill announce that
you're out of time.

Speak to me sweet child of summer rain.
I urge you, step forward and lend your hand.
I promise nothing but to ease the pain.
Unconditional love with no demand.

Silence pierced across your mundane plane.
You grasp the straw of melancholy truth.
Tonight, a secret reborn in the rain.
No end in the consumption of your youth.

We simply strive for an echo of blue.
A desert filled with the dead's sifting songs.
I cannot help but think of tastes of you.
Darkened moments harken the sin along.

Nevertheless, I embrace the twilight
as god guides me to the ink laden night.