I grew accustomed
To the rust.
To the scales of putrid orange,
Decaying green across my skin.
My cracking lips,
The metallic taste
As much from the rust
As the blood.
I never listened to the birds much anyway.
I didn't feel welcome,
As if intruding on the melody.
As far as temptation goes,
I still regret those I resisted,
As well as those I surrendered to.

I know what you mean.
It seems my waking thoughts
As well as my supposed home
Are littered with reminders.
The dull glint of brass across the floor,
Shelves littered with empty bottles.
When the silver fled
I turned to liquor and smoke
To drown my sorrow
In bourbon and tar.
I couldn't afford to
Touch up the chrome,
So I washed it out,
Leaving no trace.
I imagine if I'd
Started with bourbon.
I doubt I would have ever
Given Silver a chance.

For sure
Bronze has stronger draw
Than silver.
Though silver
Made me who I am.
It started at the tip of my tongue
Coaxed it's way down my throat
And coated my lungs
Sweeter than honey
Yet sharper than steel.
It recoiled, however
Returning to nothing
So I thought nothing more
Of the things that shine in this world.
Silver was what I chose
Because silver was pure.
Silver cannot be blamed
For the sin that passes the lips.
For whatever alloy
Coated my airways
The message
Would have been
The same.
The only alteration
In the delivery.
Our past is shameful,
Mine especially,
Yet they have no bearing
On our future.
As the choice in metal
Has no bearing
On the words spoken.

All I told you
Was that I needed
More of your time.
Time to feel appreciated
To feel wanted.
You said
"I'm choosing not to."

I'd like to return there
To tiptoe between the cracked hulls
Gilded with rust as if golden pillars.
Our faces reflected
In the puddles on the floor
Uncharacteristically happy
For though we were soaked
With despair
We were warmed
By an exchange of emotion.
It's true,
Passage of time dulled the shine
As honeyed words grew bitter
Yet inspiration always returns.
The boards can be fixed.
Remember, it is never too late
To chase dreams.
They are difficult to chase,
As fireflies on a moonlit night
Just follow the tangled line,
See where it leads.
I admit my eyes
Have also wandered the heavens
Pondering the outcomes
Of a million variants
Of choices made.
Just as it is never too late
To chase dreams,
It is never too late to set sail.
We may need to mend the sails
Perhaps patch the bilge,
By tomorrow we could
Be letting the water lead us
Where we are supposed to be.

I miss the simple joy.
My fingers painting maniacally
As my mind drifts through
The possibilities.
I miss being the hero
From the stories I read
As I grew.
I miss the new friends
The ones I knew well
From the places I created.

We could have been immense
Writhing bodies
Singing souls
The headliner seething
Because we, the opener
Stole the show each night.

I miss being different
From the rest.
Uninterested
In their petty squabbles.

I made my mistakes
As you made yours
But the waters rushed
Under the bridge.
The only things
That matters now are
Where to go
What to do
What to see
Who to be
And how to live
My friend.

The slightest cant
The smallest alteration
To the angle
Can distort
Any image
Change them
Make them
Horrifying