Monday morning, I am hoping these unlucky days are coming to an end if not then I hope the fates will grant me a reprieve.  A little over a week until Christmas and I am not ready; I am not accustomed to waiting until the eleventh hour to start and finish shopping but unfortunately situations from the last two-weeks have dictated this plight.  So many things happening internally and externally, I am losing track of time and the opportunities for social engagement.  The emotional scars keep reopening, the drizzle of crimson nightmares providing the scent of allure to my demons; my fears and frustrations clanging upon the anvil in my head.  

The winter solstice is approaching; it will be night soon and the sun is frightened.

Gentle rain
Falling softly
To the ground
Nature’s tears
Washing its wounds

Father Time
Writes his last words
Recounting his mistakes
Repeated
From his predecessor

Looking at Mother Nature
Sorrow in his eyes
His last two words
“Forgive Me”

His final embrace
Becomes vapors
Fading
Into the distance
Forever

My life is a story of déjà vu; I sit and review the timeline, the dots along the fading epoch share similarities within the clusters. I draw a line at the points of change and the clusters remain unaltered. No matter where I go; no matter who I am with, my reality is always the same; I wish I could remove the blight that is my hidden curse.   I can’t find my good fountain pen; my blood is losing its circulation. There are dilemmas on the menu, a feast for those who once hungered with ambition. Grinding my teeth in frustration from the disappointments in the room; these expectations gained are those opportunities lost.  So  many wanting so much for so little; history embedded within my skin.  The weather is getting colder but it doesn’t feel like December.

unlucky are the days; these
keys no longer open doors.
Pennies exchanged for emotions
on the sleeves.

loyalty poured unevenly;
sitting here forever
bewildered by the simplicity.

questions on the faces;
wind-chapped lips silenced
the song, lyrics removed
to unfamiliar places.

stains on the rug from
the colored wax, indiscreet;
lost imaginations beneath
these feet.

The intoxication fades,
we feel the subtle torment
of piercing venality.  
This pain leading us
to fields of unrequited affection;
Despondent emotions drifting
towards the center of night.
We are lost, stumbling
through the void into
these broken plains; those
untended fences damaged
by the force of storms.
Demons in the mist,
Phantoms trampling love;
T'is the nature of the season,
the epilogue of desires.

The rooms remain empty:
Voices echo in the halls
from the lips of strangers.

Fairy tales into the night;
thoughts raising my spirit
from beneath its dreams.

Sleep eludes me again;
the new moon marks my heart,
condemning my wayward soul.

Clocks no longer ticking;
extinction hides in darkness
waiting for my eyes…to close.

The crisp chill of a late November evening;
leaves falling on the aging soil as I watch
the sun descend six feet below the horizon.
I stare beyond the astral plane hoping to see her;
my imaginations become infractions against decency.
Our secrets remain in these old pockets despite the demons
standing beside me. The taste of ginger lingers on my lips;
my hand bleeds from the tight grip on a rose that bears her name.
I miss the smell of her skin and the glimmer in her eyes;
I long to see her smile.