There is a gentle tugging,
a small thread pulling,
forcing the flow of tears
that have not fallen
in many years.

Just a tinge,
that makes me twinge
as my ducts fill up
and spill out
on some nostalgic whim.

So, like him,
the me I used to be,
I am crying
cause something caught
my heart string,

and the distance between
all those years of hurting
seems to disappear,
I can see it in the mirror
as those tiny droplets
finally appear,
confusing the current me
with a past reflection
I did not want to see
or ever be again.

Don’t be nice
to the river
cause it will take you
to the end of the road.

It will carry you
like a dark water load
causing saltwater
asphyxiation.

It will turn
light arms
to leaden weights
and cause your
chest to burn
as you struggle
to break free
and breathe.

One bad trip
and that dip
will drop you
in the deep
dark blue
that no one
gets to
come back from.

So please
walk
don’t run,
slow down son
cause it is no fun
when the river
catches you
by surprise.

Red is the furious
results of parental frustration.
Flesh risen in the form of welts
while lava tears burn my face
leaving more streaks of strained skin,
and eyes reddened,
exhausted with the pain of living.

Blue is the transparent coolness,
soft reflection of turquoise style,
like the little painted baubles,
portraits of a pure azure sky,
with the streak of daytime fantasies
as superman flies by
high above the field of
blue flowers that I love.

Green is the scene,
not that money scheme,
but life growing
forest colors showing
broccoli tops
in the distance,
locked away
in my
nighttime existence
I miss this
shade of life.

White is an infinite void
of nothing.
Even though, I know
it is a culmination
of all the colors of
that beautiful rainbow.

Black is stunning
and dreadfully
seems to signal.
the end of all things.

I got thirty-nine,

thirty-nine years
of accumulating
and losing stuff,

of gaining
and dropping
muscle
and fat,
from eating
tons of
unhealthy crap
and trying to
get my good
health back,

of issues
remembered,
imagined,
and forgotten,

of ill gained
goods,
and
misbegotten
misfortune,

of frustration
to the point of
boiling eggs
on my forehead,

of losing
hopeful illusions
that I once acquired,

of letting go
of those desires
that inspire
stupidity,
while hopefully
stripping
the unwanted clay
and revealing the face
of someone
I have been
struggling
to become.

I don’t know where you came from,
Yet I see you in my favourite song.
I’m not sure where it is you’ll go,
Or if that’s even for me to know.
I wonder what it is you think,
Of meeting me at the brink?
I feared the chaos we could bring,
As you deserve peace within.
I let you glimpse at my heart,
Unaware youd leave with A part.
I feel our time may of been and gone,
Yet the feelings still linger on.
At times I wonder if we missed,
A vital part, loves first kiss.

Never was the fear of ants
the lack of size
and unyielding distance
as they moved on to find
the food they needed to
to feed young emerging ones.

Still, I yield
to the awe,
on bended knees
scraped as I crawl
searching the vast expanse
for something
that I will never
really understand.

My neck and eyes strain
to comprehend
what my brain lacks
as I snap back
to this flesh trap
that longs to be
something more
then a flicker in
eternity
and infinity.

Life is a nine to five
prison that no one
gets out of alive.

With the dirt brown doors
to the reflective wax floors
that janitors clean every night
after computers lock the building down,

and we fill up the cubicles,
dull gray squares were
we put the professionals
cause that is what they
went to school for.

Eight hours on and overtime,
a couple smoke breaks,
and an intermission for lunch,
but I got a sick hunch
that this groundhogs day
will take me straight
to my grave.

So, every morning
when I wake up,
I take my vitamins,
and drink my
vegetable gunk,
trying to be healthy
so, I can hit the gym,
and head right back in
to my personal work prison.

All that he wants is a sign,
saying that he’s headed
in the right direction.

Instead, what he finds
is a cold ghost town
waiting for his inspection.

He is in a hurry
with no clue why
rolling heavy footed
down a highway
fifty-five.

All he really
wants to know
is that there is
something perfect
past his bookish
existence.

Hand in a holey pocket
searching for a broken locket
knowing that he lost it
and there is no way to be
forgiven for this stupidity.

Other people may learn
but he is driven to
run too many risks.

Till, the car twists
tumbles, hits solid bricks,
and he never wakes up,
cause he missed
the caution signs
saying slow down.
at wintertime.

We are gathered here to say
wasn't this dead man great,
to pay perfect tribute to
this cold corpse brute who
can no longer move,
just another dead body
ready to be viewed
by those he knew;

A kindhearted word artist
who never tried his hardest,
but gave each day
an adequate display.

We have come here to
let loved ones mourn in
collective communion
as they highlight
the high points of his life,
whilst forgetting
all the moments
he would still be regretting
if they weren't currently
burying him.

We are here to let go,
give spirit to a dream
that no one can know
as we commit
an empty shell
to a dug out pit
of pointless stupidity.

We come here gravely
like lost lambs hoping
that some after party fairytale
will keep all of our children coping,
doping them with the madness
of an afterlife development
so, they keep hurting
while working for wealthy men.

So, we are gathered here
to celebrate him with a hymn
whilst discarding
the true character of a life lived in passing.

You come to me
from miles away,
with tears and congestion
interrupting our
our cellphone connection.

You open the line
with your confession,
expecting me to consecrate
the mistakes you commemorate
as we spend hours commiserating
the vile man you should hate.

You cry that you are afraid
you will never be loved that way,
like the man who drugged and abused you,
the one who put you through hell.

You tell me that, that predator
loves more than anyone
whilst admitting all of
the horrible **** he has done.

You break my heart
into shattered splinters
of self-doubt and recrimination
wondering why you struggle to maintain
a relationship with a man
who causes you so much pain
while I just want to take care of you.

Come again, my troubled kin,
with tender skin
flushed and bruising
from the world's abusing
and familiar’s misusing
that is so dammed confusing.

Come again, please repeat
the pulsing fury
of rapid heartbeats.
I need to hear something living
to sustain the meager hope
that I have been given.

Come again, please wait
no need to rush
there is no fate
in store for us,
so, let's dally
in children's folly
following the playful fancies
that humans need
to maintain their sanity.

And so, I cry
please come again
to heal this heart broken
by my dearly departed friend.

To long I was living with a singular vision,
became a self-perpetuator of my suffocating obsession,
the spirit of my possession
was possessing pretty things,
and all of my collecting
was to the detriment of my well-being.