It’s the silence
that commands the dialogue,
the lull that weighs
bitter and heavy
upon the tongue…
And the darkness,
that hoards every cadence,
reason and rhyme.

Within its robe of

                                    black.

A shot in the dark.
Spearing into the moonless sky.
Trailing reddish orange.
Shedding inconsequential sparks.

Incendiary…

An extension…
A digitless hand
of a troubled mind.
A sinking reach,
amidst troubled waters.

A prolonged moment of grief,
and helplessness…
That echoes into countless sets and rises.

Darkness looms…
Always…



And I’m all out of flares…


.

Today, like most days since you left
my bed lies empty
The summer of this room has faded to winter
your smell has slipped from these sheets
I still think about you when bodies come to visit
Mistaking their longings for your own
and their moans for your sweet songs
Hoping that one day you will be the one
opening the door returning to bed
In the meantime I still have my dreams
all of them laced with memories of you

She’s beautiful, the finest rose in the garden. Her hands soft as silk. Her hair as fair as her skin. Those thorns will get you though. So be careful where you pick her. She’ll ***** until you bleed.