I plan to be

one of
The

next

generation

where rhyme

is not
a crime

I'll accomplish it somehow

be reborn
into
a
family
wealthy but neglectful

weirdos

do my time as a child

woeful adolescent
suffer slings & arrows

come out on
top

my pen poised
to write this
simple
song

bundle the darkness in a tea bag,
hot water
and then rain.
the mailman comes.
a dog barks.
the house on the edge
rushes in.

pick one:

a. the flowers bloom,
set sail,
dream.

b. the candle burns down,
the flowers are wilting.

calm and chaos
through the eye of the needle
a shirt needs mending.

another day begins

in the blue skys, I find my way
in the gray ones, I am lost
every day I walk this maze
yet still I haven't found the finish
there are so many ways to take one step
some I have forgot

being trapped in here
turned me quite the cynic
I don't trust anybody I find in it

but as long as the skies are blue
I just might find my way
I must keep fighting the fog
keep up the daily struggle
just to keep away the Haze

Death, my friend, is in everything
we touch
the small porcelain cup
which holds my coffee
the tiny silver spoon that
stirs my mind

our breaths are numbered
assigned at birth
watching your chest rise and fall
as you sleep
I count
trying to formulate between us
the perfect equation

my deep and dire dreams
redeem me
no lunar memory remains
I'm transformed with no recollection
precious state
dissolving ribbon
a fresh organism
cells renewed
a sloughing off of the night
a hatching
perhaps, after all, there is a soul