Darkened winded whirlpools
Tearing up farms and homes
Swallowing whole towns

I saw the diamond birds
Flying in the midnight clouds
Before falling into crystal seas
Swallowed up by demon waters

But it's all just pretending
Of having to face reality
Standing alone with insecurity
Slapped in the face by indecision

I'm begging you, I'm on my knees
My lady, don't take your love away

Once again the dragons came
Breathing fire across distant lands
Looking for somewhere to belong
A creature that time long forgot

It's just another metaphor of me
Once again I'm lost in myself
A broken mirror image, cracked
I'm nothing if I'm without you

I'm begging you, I'm on my knees
My lady, don't take your love away

Want to play a game
Lie to me
See what happens
It will be so fun to watch me at war with myself
My natural inclination to trust
Versus my accumulated skepticism

Oh it will drive me mad you see
Throwing my limbs against the wall
Trying to see how far they'll bounce off
And when I discern the situation
I become a lot more cold
Than you are used to
The one who dried your tears
Turns their back
Says grow up

Now every word
Every act will be treated as lies
Because once I find one lie
I will give up on finding any truth

I remember my young body
Barely free of stitches
You placed me on a motorcycle
And laughed when I crashed

A man waiting on someone to die
drinks another cup, sighs
and looks at his watch, the face
everyone rememembers
for its twitch and drooping eye,
always running, always losing
a second, an hour, sometimes a day,
a year on the wrist of the dead.

Ha!
Just hitched my pants
Above the waistline;
Added a tight notch.
What's to become of me.
Should I consider
Knee-high socks,
With Bermuda shorts
To match
My peppered stubble.
Perhaps man-scaping
And Botox,
A ****** moustache
And comb-over,
Or live life
Like Benjamin Button.

Spring reminds me
Of being thirteen,
And sprouting.
The verdant tufts,
And budding girls.

I live in Chemical Valley.
It sounds horrible:
Better you than me.
Perhaps.
I grew up here,
Where the southern sky burns
Bloodstone red,
Mixing colours with the evening suns.
The St. Clair carries Huron's ghostly horns
Past the flaring refineries,
To Detroit's waters.
We have stop signs
And other amenities
Small cities are proud to maintain.
I heard the housing market
Is sustained on the divorce rate,
And not the petro-chemical industry;
We're closing another high school next year;
And there was a gruesome woodlot-****/******
Last week on the Reserve.
Maniacs living out some sick web-site.
But the soccer pitches are full,
And our Mayor is the longest serving one in Canada.
Just around the corner
(everything is just around the corner),
Our flag flies over the bones of our second Prime Minister,
(he's from Edinburgh, Scotland);
I've walked a good stretch of the fifty miles
Of beach we have running north,
Past cottages, parks, camps, etc.
We've way too many ***-holes;
And for many years,
We were featured on the ten dollar bill.

But the new houses!
Who is buying them as we move eastward,
Away from the lake and river?
Newly minted single moms;
Rejected men.
We lived in one house,
Once,
One house.
We now occupy five.
Two of which
Are too far away
From Chemical Valley.