I watched more
planes criss cross
the sky today.

Planes without
destinations ,passengers
or reasons why.

Planes that leave behind
thick lines across our skies
like a destructive hand
with graffitti.

There's no more floating
dogs or drifting ,parting
dancing girls.
No more summer flowers
or slowly gliding flying
cars.

The clouds above
the city don't
form the different shapes
like they used to do.

There she sat
cross legged
on the
neatly made bed.

She held the Wine
bottle and a lit cigarette
in one hand.

And used the other to
slowly
pick the lint
off the comforter
while humming
a song
I'd never heard .

There are plenty
of emotionally
damaged
souls who'd
love to
dance upon
my grave.

May even be a few
brave enough to
do me in
themselves.

I could call most
of them
off by name.

But by
doing that
I'd be granting
them Glory.

And Glory ,
in all
of its forms
must always
be earned.

I gave into it ,
put down my fighting knife
and succumbed to it.

Like a fallen Palmetto
to the untamed selfish sea,
I fell into it.

Found myself weightless
and dry of tears,
relived of the rush
of the heart.

Veins thick with the
Poppies warmth.
Slack faced towards the heavens
in search of something more.

Saw her face made up of
unnamed stars and canceled out
all other constellations.

It took hold of me,
like the mouth of the wolf
it devoured me.

I was open and couldn't
deny.

That there was nothing of this blood
ruled earth to compare with the beauty
of a star dressed night .

Drug along my gratitude
through the open doors
of wisdom.

Found myself stepping
into a world painted
in blackness.
With only dim city
street lights to dye the
air faded shades of
green,yellow
and red.

Far off in the land
of memory rainbow slicked
Harbor waters lap at ancient
breakwall  stones like slow
rhythmic veiled maidens.

I count the blue lights along
that familiar span across
the fuel laced waters.

Then all at once
I pull myself from
yesterday and back into
the golden light of Nimrods
dawn.

I return to what is no longer
blackness.

It comes to me that another
tomorrow has already arrived
a day worth of hours ago.

The hotel room walls
weep as the sandy hair
girl lays on her stomach
while dancing in a dream she'll
never remember.

Her skin was a ******* white
and there were water stains
on the ceiling that made out
the shape of a pistol.

Took a moment to take another
hit and murdered some more
of the hurt today.

It's 4 AM and my day never
ends.

I worked on the Whisky
because the Whisky was there.

I watched her sleep,
she slept like the dead.