Sunrise towards my mental reflection;
Contemplating where my journey is directed.
Lying in the sweat of broken slumber;
The days are short and unevenly numbered.
Living in the darkness; dying in the light.
Silenced in the morning; tormented in the night.
Tested by devils and beaten by saints;
Waiting for the promise of mercy and grace.

Morning light strays
Across her weary eyes
Feelings quietly disappeared
Along with the night

Her hand touches
Abandoned sheets
Emptiness scars her soul

Unable to face the sun
She lays her head upon
Satin memories as
His scent upon her pillow
Reminds her of the reason
To smile

Cold winds killing the breath of life;
Lands saturated with the bones of the dead.
Pondering the meaning of so much destruction;
Touching the spirits of mindful watchers
Gazing at the signs.

Thieves waiting for the house to empty.

Words buried beneath poignant sensations
Hidden from the living;
Wishing to resurrect sentiments to share
With the deceased.

Death promised the caterpillar its wings.

Sleep stolen in the midst of regrets;
Situations ferried by the unexplained
Within the fog of nightmares.

Remembering her spirit
Leaving without saying “goodbye”.

The end of our journey
on the horizon's center;
the last stop to this asylum
in the midst of winter.

Darlings of destitution painting
****** distractions on the latex;
the essence of ambition covered
within the toxic keepsakes.

Cold doors keeping out
the warmth of affections;
our bodies wrapped tightly
within the canvas of preconceptions.

The thumping of our minds
beneath the crumpling distress;
ideas illuminating our perilous
potential.  ****** beads of sweat falling
into the darkness.

Crazy notions spewing
all over the floor; the
filthy piles of wasted
time is growing.

Insanity within this circle
of trust; our dreams mislead us.
No windows to expose the sun as
we recline towards amnesia.

I walked through the empty lot
noticing the depression of time;
street lamps flickering within the subtle
breeze of the late evening.

My hands were numb from the cold and ash;
these pockets lost their warmth.
The sky forgot to welcome
the moon; it’s light lost behind
the cloudy indigo.

Something touched my face, the moist
drops of condensation; nighttime mist
upon this abrasive skin. The feeling
brought my lips towards a smile, because
someone new was at the horizon.

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.

Promise me
Forever;
Lie with intent
To love eternity.

Feign the strength of
A god,
Hold the weakness of
A mortal.

Never let “love” slip
From this deep caress;
Not a glance be remiss
From the touch of affection.

Let our souls portray
Light, in the darkness.

He stared into the eyes of Persephone
Mesmerized by the reflections concealing
A broken spirit; those beautiful
Blue eyes drawing in his
Struggling soul.

Doubt polluting clean air;
His instinct deceived by
Her notions of favor.

Intimacy shared within their
Conversational delight exposing
His veins, sliced by her
Blades of desire.

She was unresponsive,
Numb to his plasma discharge;
Darkness chased away the light
Night consumed his day.

So much calamity beneath
The surface of serenity.
Absence of closure; misinterpreted
Memory lapses. Broken beginnings
irreparable; shattered petitions
Severing their nerves.

Scent of pain and sorrow
On the sheets; raindrops
Collecting on the glass.
Inhibitions washed away
By drizzling expectations.

He wants to send her a rose,
A small token of hope
In the midst of demons.

Sitting on a park bench
Could not help but notice
A paper bag pressed against
A garbage can like a beaten
Victim whose brown exterior judged
And sentenced harshly for its
Desire to survive in a world that
Deemed it unworthy for society
Instead its abused
Wrinkled
Crumpled
Torn existence demeaned
For the purpose of pleasure
And then quickly discarded
Refusing to care about all
The good it carried inside

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.

Voices echo from the halls
of distant memories;
the sky darkened by
the migration of shadows.

Love was found at
the height of appeal;
that moment of joy
arrived quickly
and deteriorated rapidly.

Life consumed the space
reserved for happiness;
the absence of trust
broke our hearts and
shattered our perceptions.

We know the question
and fear the answer;
wondering if we will see
another sunrise.

My nights were endless;
the beating of rain
reminding me of all
that I lost.

My hope exchanged
for contentment;
I surrendered beneath the
weight of unhappiness,
my soul suffered behind
a smile.

I met you from a distance;
I found you interesting, the fool
within me willing to ignore this gem.
You were tender poetry; my spirit
was mesmerized.

Frightened by the notion of falling in love
again; I needed to hear your voice, to know
you from beyond the veil of
an intriguing premise.

That moment of clarity;
removing the ambiguity that choked
my heart.  This feeling of absence defined
by your missing touch.

I need you.

A simple invitation,
written in prose,
fearful that the quiet voice
would disrupt the words;
the ambient light of candles
elevated their courting desires.

They tasted decadence
upon the plates,
flavors of the unexpected
were thoughtful and deliberate;
the night’s delights dripped with joy
despite the absence of the moon.

The candor of sweet desserts,
slices of memorable moments;
the pieces of lingering satisfaction
on their lips.

She felt the poet’s heart
and wanted to touch his soul.

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.

Birth pangs of a new era erupts violently no longer acknowledged by the one who lays naked upon the darkness. Soul fasting with anguish allowing his thoughts to carry on towards iniquitous perceptions cultivated from the depths of hearsay. Burying his beliefs deep within the dissipated center of his unconscious desires. His mind craving acceptance as his body endures brutal rejection; his spirit forsaken amidst the shadows of death all because he dared to be different.

The morning smells like rain…again.
There are some things that remain in question,
mostly bitter-sweet sentiments
masked as joy and happiness;
it is funny how the straight and narrow
road is really a circle,
the perceptions of progress are illusions
because the accompanying footprints are different.
Here I am taking steps back only to reach
the same plateau because hope kissed me
sensually on the lips;
different is not always better
just as love is not eternal

Raindrops…
The moisture on the window;
the weekend huddled beneath the blankets,
the only thing separating what is real
and what is perceived.
The constant tapping against
the glass is a beautiful symphony within the psychology.
I followed my heart towards the pit,
staring into the opening and catching the glitter
from a fading light.

Sunlight breaks through these gray clouds…
The less we speak, the more we learn;
there is an unsettled situation
within the correlation.
Something is amiss,
I cannot put a finger on this
point of quiet contention.
To remain in this abandoned shelter,
this place of insanity,
is the only hope of weathering
these frigid temperatures.
My lips are numb and my heart is cold;
I can see the sun and that’s all that matters.

They met out of mutual appreciation
towards their artistic expressions,
becoming slaves of free will;
incarcerated within their choices.

She wanted to be with him
to follow his footprints, no matter, wherever;
even if the journey led to Hell.

His fingerprints smudged deeply upon, her soul.

She said three words that left him devastated;
Her lips now covered with silence. Sitting in limbo
trying to make sense of it all.

A moonless night conceals the reasons.

She still writes about those moments;
delving into those times to reveal whatever
she missed about herself.

Changes flowing between life and death;
acuity erased by emotions. The long walk
along the path of understanding.

The images within her mind portray a song,
fading like forgotten lyrics.

She lingers upon the corner of exposed
intimacy; pricking her finger on the
point of fallacy.

Small drops of crimson nepotism
releasing clarity. The lessons
smeared within the inked blots
interpreted inconsistently.

She forgot the meaning of her poetry;
her passions defiled within the filthy
knowledge. Crying for days, it was all
she could do to remember.

The plot thickens; he played the game
so timid, so close to victory,
tasting a hint of defeat.
The game of his life,
trashed and trodden
beneath unexpected cowardice.
Jack Daniels slowly evaporating
within the cool glass; nerves
growing numb to personal sentiments
listening to insensitivity plea for attention.
Clinging to that moment,
promising something different;
feeling the heat of amber ***** eating away
the remains of expectations.

The lights keep flickering;
darkness reaching out between
the flashes of daydreams.
Memories damaged by perceptions,
left alone in this empty room.

The days carry the essence of grand fatigue;
I once knew a good judge of character,
whom the recipients of righteousness
called a friend.  

He collapsed within the fog,
leaving a rare delicacy for me to consume.  
I savored the taste of blatant bitterness,
refusing to regurgitate the morsels
I quickly digested.  

Now I've got this nagging cough
and wheezing in my chest.
The plight of mad science
to taint my good blood cells
with the disease of contaminated cytoplasm.

I am becoming numb
to its brutal effects
and I am frightened.

Faint words of familiar sentiments falling
upon my heart and mind; the language
conjured spirits from my past.

I looked for the bottle
but all I could find was regret.

So much confusion within the chaos;
my flesh burns from the sting of scorpions,
they cannot understand what I've been through
nor will they understand what I am
putting them through.

It's beginning to feel like winter.

Glimmering morning reflections,
Psychedelic memories along the crystal.
Listening to the melody of a Mourning Warbler;
Echoes from her song
Shatters the callous glass.
Pieces falling like snowflakes
Cutting away the misery.

A new equinox rests upon the horizon;
it seemed like it would never arrive.

The touch of a cool breeze
upon the nape of my neck.
Sending a chill along my spine;
goose bumps of impending excitement.

I find myself thinking about her
beautiful autumn eyes; wanting to taste
the pumpkin spice on her lips.

The smell of rain,
that subtle hint hovering
within a single cloud;
my tainted memories washed away.

Sleep was nothing but a myth;
nightmares ruled the day.

Vocabulary limited to an apology,
strength dwindled beneath
the weight of pity.

It was a slow progression
on broken glass
towards the darkened room;
insidious laughter cackling
from within the demise.

The smell of ******* and bureaucracy
induced violent convulsions;
the mental walls came tumbling down.

Thinking back towards my childhood, remembering those tiny moments that broke my spirit. Conformity, the pressures of this square peg to fit into those round holes; barriers that put my agility in stasis forcing my mind to endure constant pummeling from both friends and foes. I was too afraid to stand up and embrace confrontation; those “reindeer games” that I didn't know how to play.

I believe, everything happens for a reason, even when the reason is ignorant. The days become years, rolling with the changing seasons yet the moments mimic one another. Surely there are lessons to learn within the complexity of triviality, the child becoming the adult still tethered to burden of *******.

There’s this feeling of déjà vu again; the journey is filled with course corrections, navigation through expectations and recommendations to appease values not my own. The plaguing sense of accommodation to avoid confrontation becomes the eulogy at my funeral procession.  Maybe it’s time to stop moving and let that thing I am most fearful of pull me into the center of chaos; to sit in the belly of the whale and let it all go.

Specs of afternoon sunlight
touched the thoughts of a last wish.
A dancing beauty hoping to kiss
the morning star before it fades
to dusk.

Her words were sweeter
than any kiss.

She described happiness as
the point of illusion, a subconscious
desire for reasons to live.

The sunset against
the foggy sky.

Darkness from an unexpected storm
left her grieving the loss of
the sun.

Hearing his distant voice;
the fading melody serenading
her tired spirit.

She longed for a mature relationship
falling for him because he met her
needs; his departure leaving
imaginations to fulfill
her vacated desires.

A light breeze rustles
the stars; falling upon
the night.

Death gave the caterpillar her wings
to greet happiness in the clouds.

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.

Morning light obscured by the frosted memories;
time carries no sympathy for the remorse of
seconds traveling within my shivering hands.

I dream of sleep.

Attempting to free my mind of thoughts
by staring at the sunless horizon. Taunted
by cliches; these menageries clouding
the moment.

I long for sustenance.

The refrigerator is full of food
yet, I am starving to death. Night
comes quickly, my body huddled in
fear of being alone.

I laugh.

This season will inevitably change
so I wait, patiently, for the next.

This young Jamaican
Pressing her heart against my soul
The taste of Patois from her lips
Crushing the salty vexation

The melody of her imagination
Songs of wanting and familiarity
She connected with me from afar
Desire and passion ignited determination

Love born in winter died abruptly
Words echoing sentiments in the wind
She belonged to the moment
Gone before we could ever be

Tonight

Seductive lips speaking
Sensual truth
Tongues mingle
Tasting savory forgiveness

Silhouettes exposed
Grudges disrobed
Falling around the ankles

Nerves captivated along the spine
By the touch of compassion
Beads of perspiration
Dripping adulation

Closely guarded secrets
Shattered
Bodies covered
From the dust of tumbling tension
Souls shaken
From the weight of conversation

Intimacy reveals
Unexplored regions
Between mind and soul

Tonight nothing remains
Except indulgence
Believing the sun
Will never rise

On this night
No words, profound
Silence speaks within
Meditation; reflecting on
The memories indescribable.

I stand before the early morning light;
squinting to see the hope
promised on the horizon.

Shadows from the pillars of salt
behind me; a multitude of errors
seeking my attention.

All the fallen stars buried
beneath the wasted wishes;
their tombs unmarked and broken
by good intentions.

The black rose I carried tightly
within my palm has died from the suffocation;
I’m afraid to let it go,
hoping it can be resuscitated.

The stench of stubbornness on my flesh;
our hands no longer touching, our lips
no longer tasting the moments.

Always and forever...
etched in loneliness.

Waiting for the morning
to cease this endless night.
The seconds prolong
this enticing desire.

I long to touch
your beautiful face;
to see the sunrise
in your tender eyes.

Tomorrow is far away;
sleepless excitement magnifies
this excruciating wait.

I long to kiss
your beautiful lips;
to see your smile
light up the sky.

Haunted memories against
this restlessness; my eyes
searching for signs of
certainty.

Frightened by
the careless natures;
feeling my hope
constricted by the angst
of dilemmas.

Thoughts tilting away
from the season; my pulse
quickening within
the lapse of time.

Darkness mocks my search
for the light; enchanted
dreams lost within
this ambiguity.

Silence disturbed me;
calamity throughout the night.
Overwhelmed by absence,
I kept waiting, hoping it
would return.

Time tormented me; my eyes
played peek-a-boo with
the clock. My perceptions
played tiddlywinks with
my sanity.

One day, I will forget
the touch of dreams;
I miss it greatly. The way
my body feels when we
are connected.

Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the first of seven days for him to ponder the effect of past events on the present moment.  Dressed in dark colors inconspicuous as his wardrobe mimics the morning sky.  He places a finger to his mind, directing his thoughts to the decision that fate happens for a reason. A reason requiring keen insight from the divine to decipher its riddle disguised as purpose.

He stares towards the perennial peak of a hill and recalls the feeling of disappointment at his failed ambitions dictated by the imposing expectations implanted within his childhood.  His perception, now a broken compass, misguide his spirit through the fog of unsolicited opinions.  Decisions wavering in the gusts of a thousand voices.   Today becomes the younger twin of Yesterday both determined to clone their DNA upon Tomorrow.

Alone with his thoughts as his misery is unable to find the company it seeks.

The first of seven days is now complete.

Shadows of the past greet a fading patriarch sitting upon the fragile seat of the present.

A season void of exuberance leaving his “inner child” huddled beneath an undressed tree staring at the emptiness left by “disappointment”. Childhood abandoned upon paternity’s deathbed.

A season revealing that child seeking the comfort only “nostalgia” seems to offer. Moments of youth denied by the demands of adulthood.

Shadows of the future rebuking the bitterness the old heart embraces. Consuming sorrow from the cup of Grief.

A season revealing Tomorrow leaving her tears upon his withered cheek. Reflecting on the face of Love lost within a fog. Her poignant touch an old man is no longer able to feel.

A season realizing his unwillingness to change as Death performs last rites upon an old fleeting soul. Guided to the “other-side” by Eternity.

A child set free becoming acquainted with joyful simplicity.

Darkness cracked by the beam of
my halogen lamp, the glow illuminates
the emptiness within the night.

The blood drips from the ***** of
my fingertip, creating the shape of
a distorted rose on the dusty table.

The tip of my tongue stings
from the poignant taste of acrimony;
the depth of tender thoughts muted.

The words I desperately need remain
hidden within the convolution; speechless,
the silence wreaks havoc on my eardrums.

My pen is dry, the ink evaporated
from the inconsistent flow of diction;
these infatuations longing to touch the paper.

There is nothing so, I quietly wait.

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.

Six times I recounted
that day, it all
fell from the sky.

Our spirits were once covered
within the wings of angels;
My body burned, from
the touch of eternal light.

Six ways I counted the
Deceptions, hiding behind
her eyes.

Naked, exposed upon the bed of love
She touched my soul with the brand
of a fool. Strength left my body;
Wisdom vacated my mind.

Six days I spent buried
Beneath unholy ground.

Laughter from the halls of Heaven, ridicule
breathing out sweet vapors from the lips of
the Divine. She cast me out of paradise
By a single word.

A young woman spent
Many years behind a window
Guarding her fragility

Until one day

The glass breaks from
A single tear drop
Exposing her loneliness

As each day

Different faces pass by
The broken window stopping to
Gaze at the young woman’s appearance
Before continuing on their way

Some stay a moment just to
Say “hello” neither waiting
For her reply nor allowing
A chance for conversation

Yet everyday

She looks out towards
The world trapped behind the
Broken shards hoping that
Someone will stay awhile and
Become her friend

She returns,
Above the hollows,
Believing change
Is something
And nothing.

She weeps,
Beneath the firmament,
Believing hope
Is meaningful
And meaningless.

Her tears
A thousand
Snowflakes.

Thoughtless winds
Fragmented
A butterfly’s wings.

From the beginning, and
To the end.

I feel your indignation towards
My existence; your displeasure towards
My presence.

The mockery of your embrace
Holding me tightly within
Your arms of despair.

Moral conceptions offended by
Your deliberate misbehavior.

Your kiss saturates my spirit with vexation,
Attempting to convert my heart with
Poison and bitterness.

We both want change for
Reasons we cannot agree; a scandal
That transgress Love’s institution.

I will neither yield to your disgrace
Nor entertain your dishonor.

Remove me from this circumstance, take away
The memories of your offensive actions.

With my last breath I plead,
Accept me for who I am please, just leave
Me alone.

Midnight cravings for coffee
stimulating sedated thoughts;
emotions deposited in the ink
of a pen.

Tick marks dotted on crinkled
paper; moments recounted, too
many to comprehend. ****** abstracts
and crooked lines.

I lived a sheltered life,
Three square meals a day;
Believing the devil waited for me
Under my bed.

Consanguinity within the dramatic pool;
the kiss of a mermaid left the taste
of sour grapes.

I thought I knew love,
realizing that the feeling
was but an echo of the loneliness
I did not recognize.

Emptiness led my heart to vows;
a vow of silence was appropriate.
Experience leads me to confusion;
I am left choking on complexity.

The sunrise looks like the sunset;
all I see is indigo, a weird shade
for sleepy eyes.

Adoration is searching for hope within the condensation. Maybe it’s time to say goodbye again; another disappearance from someone who said “I love you,” leaving a troubled soul in the midst of déjà vu. The patterns of time falling like heavy rain, saturating a life with poignant sensations.

Resting against the bookends
Musky pages and emotions penned
Blurry vision within the morning light
Our dreams have come to an end

Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the second of seven days for him to pursue the affection of woman he has never known yet forever seen. Finding delight in the notion of interest with an undistorted persona that is his own. Relief that appearance is unimportant compared to that which resides within a blemished shell. To behold love within the unseen.

He shares his time revealing the secrets of his soul. Expressing emotional depth no one else could comprehend. His heart bleeding poetic verses transfusing the emptiness of existence with companionship. The bitter sweet taste of love confuses his senses getting his emotions twisted.

Souls entwined on the fragile plain of romance.

The second of seven days is now complete.

He took his finger to write
A poem on the dusty window glass
His thoughts lost within the afternoon
Sunlight; mesmerized by the kaleidoscope
Playing with his childish inhibitions.

Spending time chasing dreams in the dark;
whispering to one another about the things
we call “happiness”.

Checking our pockets for change
to buy hope and keep
our bellies full of joy;
injecting our minds with allusions
to dispel the horrors of our nightmares.

This is our drug
to cope with the fear of
loneliness in the night;
following the tracks to avoid
the slums that we must pass through.

“Love” was never a friend
just the trickster who stole
our moral decency;
the dealer of truth and lies.

It’s been four years to the day;
the image of her face barely remains.
Her scent is becoming faint;
the desire to find her is fading away.