Pain
Written by Adam M. Snow

I know what pain is,
the feeling of being alone.
Screaming,
knowing you cant be heard.
The desire to break free
is irrelevant.
You are lost.
A ghost,
trapped.

Searching for a book of matches,
I came across one of your poems
from 1993. It wasn't written on a
matchbook; no.  It was written on
a page torn right from my heart.

The line about how a blind man
helped you to see that words hold
more love than truth still burns my
eyes.  Seems you were right; and
you were wrong, too. The ink was
no longer as blue as your eyes
that day when we last held hands.
That day you penned these words
to my heart. That very day; our last.

Your poetry used to make me smile,
or laugh, or curse your soul for writing
words that I could never seem to find.
This poem was your best; your last.

The ink has faded and ran  in places
from all these years of tears shed and
long dried. More tears would do no good. 
I can hardly read these faded lines. You still
would not be here to kiss them away,
to tell me that everything is going to be
alright; no.

r ~ 5/8/14

Love is in...

in the middle of the day
in the things we have to say
in the way we give and take
in the promises we make

Love is in...

it's never out of style
try it on for size
it fits real snug and nice
I think that you will like

Love is in...

it's too hard to ignore
if we run low we'll make some more
in different flavors that's for sure
I'll share mine and you share yours

Love is in...

Hello World,

If you could ******* isolation
you would ***** fifty shades
of I wish I were as easily pleased
as you.

If I could be happy with simplicity
and the birds and the bees
and the SNL and cable
and the drone, drone, drone.

commercial break
I have no channels left
all flowing into the image
of the ******* I hold
to the past.

you will know me
as the disaster
who tried.

I will throne above
the artificial sunshine
coming through
the window of your
domestic screens.  

-r0