The blood-laden Moon drips
Slowly, lethargically
Like molasses to the Earth
Flooding the streets
And the countryside
In a thickening haze
And flooding the mind
Even more so
Until we are not our own
But the instruments
Of prediluvian things
The forces that once ruled
The primordial waters
And wish to bring about
The age of the sea once more
An endless ocean
Under a blood red Moon

Blue dream

I’m darkness

With wine

There was a point

Where the room stood still

A so did the trees

But now the traffic picks up In the background

The rabbits heard something

And the wind...it says shiloh, go West


Now I wish that I wasn’t so burdened

With the choice to go down two different streets

And burdened with time,

It’s being, in my veins like blue ink and making its way up to my brain to be wrapped in neural tubes till it drains cool aid from its corners.

I wish that a maker like Viggo would cast his pen that says Oscar and float down his invisible warrior chain for drama, ransom


The walks I’ve taken show that the branches supporting the local homes are well watered and well kept, construction
Sights and signs of prosperity

alright, and with that I step into the next intersection,

and check my blindspots

In the cold of a winter
He came in home
Just in time for dinner.

The key opened the door,
No one was surprised with his presence,
He sat on the end of the table,
Ate the dinner,
Not a look, not a comment,
They may even have not noticed him,
They may have not heard him,
Or the tinkling of  cutlery.

He withdraw after finished,
Went to the apartment door,
And it was his apartment,
But with all those people,
Unknown,
Strangers,
As if they owned the place.

Inside again,
At the bathroom,
The mirror confessed:
He was not there.
His time has passed.
He was not dead (that he knew for sure)
But he just was not there.

Hard to say where
He could be,
When he could be.
His decaying senses
Were of no help.
Everything he could feel
Of that time-space in the apartment,
But his whole body
Was somewhere else.

He slept on his bed,
But woke with the sun in his face.
No apartment,
No bed,
No dinner,
No ceiling.

Just a wanderer
Touching the last of his belongings:
His memories
Of what used to be his dream.

Depression 2
  I was often jealous of my brother he had what I lacked
which was charm and people were drawn to him
he was intelligently knowledgeable without demonstrating
his aptitude and when someone said a stupid thing he smiled
And refrain from stinging anyone with sarcasm.
Where he worked and when the management had a problem
with the workforce, they came to him for advice.
But he had a dark side he could be absent, silent and sat
drinking for the day, at such a time no one came near him.
Then suddenly he snapped out of it and was his old self.
Illness struck him down he died 38 years old.
I was hot-tempered and argumentative, but he could
calm me with a few jokes and just by being there for me.
I know now that he was suffering from a severe depression
Which no one knew about, he likes a drink they said and left it at that?
But no day goes by when not thinking of him he was glad at heart
On my lack of tolerance but he was always there for me.

time
was purely a four-letter concept with you

you made hours alone
discussing the universe and its secrets
feel like fleeting minutes

a year passed by
in an ephemeral glance

reality completely deliquesced
with the touch of your lips
and your love was marked as transitory

                                                     ­  ...but those eyes were infinite


x.

I have no name...
No identity...
No destiny....

I am the child of nothingness,
The feted offspring of anonymity.
I feel neither pleasure nor pain.
I am but an afterthought,
A forgotten shadow in a valley of lights.
I do not yearn to explain my existence,
I simply accept it.

There are those of us meant to thrive in ambiguity,
To embrace the power of the obscure.

I seek not rewards nor accolades,
My only desire is to remain an enigma.
I am the lone soldier in the War of the Mundane,
Forever cloaked from the eyes of the world.

I am Nothing...
I am No one...
I am simply...

...X.

They're coming, they're coming.
Come on, get out of bed.
Start running, start running,
unless you'd rather be dead.

They're shooting, they're shooting,
keep your head low.
They're looting, they're looting.
Everything's gonna go!

They're screaming, they're screaming,
"****** death to the poor!"
It's seeming, it's seeming,
things have rot to the core.

They're fighting, they're fighting,
anyone in their way.
Flame igniting, flame igniting,
it won't be held at bay,

They're rushing, they're rushing,
They've cut off every route.
So crushing, so crushing.
Can't escape the pursuit.

They've found us, They've found us,
there's no where to run.
All around us, all around us,
The end has begun.

Silver bus, roaring through the city.
There's an army of lonely people
wandering around the sidewalks.
Angry horns fill the distance.

A taco vendor on the corner
is screaming like there's no tomorrow.
The poor woman with the dog near him,
doesn't know what to make of it.

Down by the courthouse
the protesters are at it again.
Cops man the barricades nearby.
Just another day in the big city.

And there, in the madness,
a young boy looks around bewildered.
As if to remind all of us
That we are letting go of what matters.

Don't ignore the small things,
No matter what the fall brings.
Don't ignore the small things,
Some are bigger than all things.

A manic driver plows through a puddle
soaking an old man on a bench.
In the park a college grad shrugs his shoulders
as the girl he was with walks away.

Ambulances and police cars
go ripping past the skyscrapers,
The fights are raging again,
Just beyond the tourist traps.

On a street corner a haggard man,
screams out of a bullhorn.
Are there any souls left here
for God to save today?

And the well dressed businessmen
are all smiles as they leave work.
But not even their money and power
is enough to repair the cracked roads.

Don't ignore the small things,
No matter what the fall brings.
Don't ignore the small things,
Some are bigger than all things.