Endings like beginnings are not always apparent,
in the moment the eye blinks and the landscape changes.
Had I known would I have lingered in the space
just to feel the edges of it all soften and fade?

I am the mist, seen but for a moment and gone
into the dark sky that has been pressing it face against my window,
forever waiting to inhale me back to the edge of creation
into a past that was so recently present.

I cannot rewrite the chapters from before,
they are permanently printed and must remain unedited.
Each word was written with a single breath, a testament
that I, a speck of stardust, glittered for one glorious moment.

I crack that ****** spine
with the deftness of a pro.
The scent of her potential wafts
into the deepest recesses of my brain.

It's enough for only a moment,
a cursory glance at the supine sides
already becoming supple beneath
my nimble fingers as I push the edges wide.

The anticipation is beyond containment
as I lie back on soft pillows and take
a sip of wine. There is no point of return
the weight of my deed is filled with guilty pleasure.

And I sigh...

I gently remove the cover and peer
hungrily upon her bold delicious title
and we begin our journey together,
I turn the pages, and she, tells me her story.

I am your Dystopian girl
got a black leather vest
here at the bottom of the world,
wearing shades so I can't see the decline.

I stand in the dark and wait for nothing
under this rusted and broken street lamp.
Heat from crowded streets and hustling alleys
keeps the blood moving in my veins for now.

Lament if you need, cry if you want
buy into the creed, it's Dystopia baby
that we made by hand with our friends
we like to call misery and disease.

We're always looking for a hero
to step up to the plate but the
early bird special is apathy baked.
It's Dystopia baby, wake up and smell the decay.

She was Bordeaux;
full bodied with a dark
fruity scent, fermenting
more each day as
life pressed out
her sweet essence.

Her mouth, a worn out
label of words, never
deciphered , silenced
by ordinary men; she
had always been
their best kept secret.

The hourglass girl
keeping time
in measured gulps;
drop dead red
had always been her color.

How is it that the universe expands
and I cannot diminish thoughts of you?
Your memory should be cold now
instead it scorches and burns

melting the edges of my existence
until sleep eludes my grasp
and I chew on my lip, surprised
that blood tastes more of salt than copper.

Pain travels from twilight into blinding brightness.
There is no impenetrable shell, no leaden wall,
only the will to cauterize its oppressive nature
and banish it into the shadowed recesses of being.

I knew when the bells were silenced
that it was finally done, as was I.
The snow fell furiously trying to cover
the ugliness only man can beset upon himself.

The memory of warm lips
brushed against my bluing ones
and I felt myself rise above the frost
but there was no lightness in my spirit.

Carillon splendor had marked the births and deaths
of everyone I had ever known, but no more...
it would die along with me and fall
into the dusty desolation of this place.

The sons of Adam had honed their weapons well ,
smashed the fruits of labors of all who had come before.
They had stolen the sweetest of sounds in a greedy grab for glory
and tossed it into the vacant winds of history.