Ephemeral... quick to leave
Those are most mornings for me.
I awake now, not even bothering
To look at what occurred during the night.
All that would bring would be
The guilt, that biting guilt,
That I try to escape by finding these girls.
Its such a strange cycle
Very give and take.
For moments I feel truly alive
The next moment in a grave.

Perhaps I'm looking in all the wrong places.
But, perhaps, perhaps just maybe
I'm looking in the right places
And simply have not found that niche,
The one
I'm waiting for.

I'm not sure,
Maybe I will never be sure.
Too locked in now
I'll never return.

A tower built, of mortar and stone,
To hold these bells aloof, alone,
Forever as a prison keep.
Yet by their own merit,
Bells cannot be entrapped.
For a pull of the rope
Brings forth golden notes,
Conversation that far beyond
Those cold walls surpasses.

Tear-stained faces shouting
Obscenities flow through the air
Think and dense, seemingly tangible.
Building a wall that
Only tears us down,
Ripping apart all we once had
Bringing with it a finality,
So fragile, as if a breath,
But spreads to overwhelming
Like a fog in the early winter morning.
We both walk away,
Dull anger still pulsing behind our eyes.
Looking around, its all empty
Everything is so empty,
Like a heart beating nothing but air.
We walk away,
Finding nothing.
Nothing but a cycle,
Catch-22.
Love found and broken.
Like the washing machine
Load, wash, *****.  Repeat.

There is, or perhaps was, always,
And forever, quite invariably,
Yet inconsistently, as if sporadically
A thought that I once won over.
Or did I get one over in a thought?
The idea of greatness, un-sought
Never dirtied by the eyes of those
Who want only, horrifically,
Most terribly, quite incomparably,
My inner most
A ponderous place, that I abhor
Fleeing ever quicker,
On feet made of lead.
Perhaps just one look back?
They'll never know,
Until my salt-pillar body they find
In later days.

Bottle of wine, full just moments ago,
The last drops resting on my shirt,
Memories of moments ago
Now a blur.

Tears that used to exist
No longer have a home
Having been replaced by these grapes of wrath,
Mindless revelry.

Pass the blunt, breathe in, now out,
**** helps the hurt to mellow,
Touching out the feelings the wine couldn't get to.
Darkness and spinning.

I sit on a couch, watching plaster bumps
Turn into stars and spin as my head
Turns on its orbit, round and round,
Drowning out everything.

Blackness, preceded by heavy lids,
I stumble to my bed, stumble, stumble,
Sleep now, until the next dream,
Sleep now, never awake.

By his Actions
Did so
His Heart speak!
Profess
With your hands
The
Life Eternal
You
Seek.

Perhaps you've heard, of this Jesus I know,
By whom I do live now joyfully so.
Maybe you've heard, great things he has done,
In this war for your soul, already won,
If only you turn from your life of sin
And learn from the Truth we all hold within,
That the Lord, He is God Most High
And His Word is what all men should live by.