Hollering wind noises agitated
                                                        the motherless womb.
Clouds casted imprecations
                                                   within a roofless tomb.
One witness wallowed about
Traced her fingertips along the edges
                                                                ­     of ivory-laden walls
Unwilling to let her out.

A veteran seeking refuge
A sheep escaping slaughter
A witness shielding her eyes

Only one will escape.

an ever-blazing, startled sun
coupled with raging rain
complemented my indifferent mood.
watching the droplets descend from the sky
one, two, three, one, four, five, six, one
the wet particles avoided my ugly skin.
liquid tears penetrated my pores,
mocking the rain.
my eye sockets can hardly compare to the clouds, though
both are wrinkled, deceitful, and strong.
one, two, three, one, four, five, six, one
caustically falling,
one thousand accumulated
thus far

Regretting then forgetting,
                                                  pressing it away.
                                                           ­                    Repressing the depressing
Images, overplayed.

there is no button to press and hold
down
no slab of clay to abuse and mold
brown
the sky turned ash grey
frown
your scarlet lips did not object nor obey
hown
your fickle fingers crawling in my ears
hear
chasing after a sheetless bed of
tears

Rolling forward
The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing
Thing, think, for, ward, forehead, bed
For once, not wanting it to be you instead
Laughter, echos, people having fun
Unbelieving the harsh realities of the world because
The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing
Thing, fling, summer, winter, harsh, bitter
Sweet, your lips, oh how they flirted
Revealed your heart's emotions through a crafted semi-circle, inverted
Rounded
The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing

Good-byes bid one by one, like a row of candles
Glowing, but flickering with the most temporary relief.
The disbelief, a pathetic excuse to suffice as justification
Prove me wrong, but offer no reason or explanation,
Only lies.
Harbingers are callow cries
Marked by the change of season
Or waning of the moon,
Take your pick,
Pick the scabs
That flake away,
Like the broken air vents scratching your room
Noiselessly.
Blame the airwaves for failure,
Fail to deliver an honest example, a sample
Of blood you donated to a lost cause,
A ship without a sailor
Headed for a vacuum in the wrathful waters, bubbling blue.  
Your blue
Crystalline eyes that spoke emotionlessly,
Evoking commitment devotionlessly.
My intention, apparent and there
Your attention limited to a direct, directionless stare.
A washed out jacket smelled of sweet dry sands
Concealed your regret, a heart held weak with grainy hands,
Like the hands of a clock
Or an hour glass, releasing a last tock
Before the neglected and battered boat
Caught glimpse of the welcoming flock
Of seagulls
Lounging lazily upon a desolate dock,
Waiting for the incoming tide
Relying on your "sick and pale"
Grieving orbital
That refuses to abide
By the laws of science, set
So stubbornly,
Setting itself for denial,
Demands that will never again be met,
A decision thought out without precision,
Finality embodied through
Hands waving away.
Those cleansing waves indicating disarray...
Or perhaps welcoming the sun's promising rays.