think i may like to travel to small places,
old and full of history. deep aged fabrics
stained with the words of time. to touch

Time slips through my fingers like
quicksilver kisses.
Forgotten dreams,
haunted days and scream filled memories mark the hours as they darken.

(I know not this creature, nor her needs anymore
she covets all but comfort, as scar tissue stifles her cries)

Spinning wildly now,
shadows heed my warning and run.
Silence whispers gladly
"a friend to none and foe to all"
Loneliness, my redeemer beckons with a knowing smile
and I am lost once more.

heavy rain from a darkening sky
and buildings  fall

no one knows what will be left
running down the nowhere
where dreams die
on a metal tray
at the hospital morgue

trouser leg pushed up
the search for black ink
and a child's name
begins

perhaps the arm
the hip

the back?

and the children plead,
lie to me,
tell me,
i won't die,
today

and the silent screams
are left in an eternity of why?

foul and bitter hearts
will prevail
on both sides,
this is the poetry of death