letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging

time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell

wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones, and your name is Soul

prophet tongue with
stabbing perceptions
i gave him my name
while in bed.

soft white curtains
though still chamber thick
cold steel hands
and the room sliced into pieces
by morning light
but haunted by night sounds
crept into open wounds of the heart

chills.

his hand
resting on my thigh while he snores
summer bruised and adventurous
though callous youth
with his unbandaged scabbed knee
skating last night.

moment forgotten in the carride
but a stone monument staring
at me on the kitchen counter.

He was a good kid once,
All smiles and personality that set him apart.
"A pleasure", his teachers said;
"A funny boy, but so smart"!
He was first among his friends and loved by family in those days.

But those days pass and life wears you down.

Romances failed him, or vice versa,
The big leagues never called,
And work was never interesting, just work.

Always his escape from what should have been was in the ****
    Which got inside his head and changed him.

Frustration twisted him as years passed and dreams dimmed;
Every change was a loss he took as something stolen.
He didn't see he gave away what he lost,
        So he wanted revenge on us because we couldn't help him.

His actions hurt us,  but not how he thought it would,
        We suffered to see him become the God who banished himself To the hell of his anger where the Satan he became
        Keeps him locked away in lonely frustration.

He was a good kid once,
All smiles and personality that set him apart.
"A pleasure", his teachers said;
"A funny boy, but so smart"!
He was first among his friends and loved by family in those days.

Now he's gone and can't find his way back.

And I miss him.

A bubble appears
Small and smooth
Symmetrical
Transparent
Hued in pink and blue
Harmless
Our instinct is to pop
Amused by its bursting
Why?
It will explode as it lands softly to the ground.
Why not let it be?
Admire it's beauty
Floating in purity.
Clear and delicate
A free spirit
Until it hits the ground
Pop!
It vanishes

© Jl 2016