As I regret the passing year,
Foreign warnings call,
A toll I thought I’d never hear,
A bell molests my ears
Why must I fear the sound,
I had all year to makeready
I had the ammunition in my grasp
I had all year to get steady
I had the motivation of my past
Your idiosyncrasies, to my disbelief
Were widely unknown to my reverie
Foolishly dislodged from my instincts
The irreconcilable ways in which we think

The irreconcilable ways
In which you used to think,
Foolishly dislodged from your instincts
Now widely unknown to your reverie
My idiosyncrasies are your beliefs
You take the motivation of your past
And learn to make my trembles steady
You have the ammunition in your grasp
Now use your motive to makeready
We don’t fear the sound
The bell rings for our ears
A toll we couldn’t wait to hear
Foreign sounds will call
As you and I rewrite the year

Between hums of your lingering facade
And drums of the exhilarating subsequent of this
My body acts as a time-glassed compass
Letting the magnet pull
Letting me yearn towards the bona fide path
While I control time,
And the remedial effects of it
As I chant
“I am fine
I am fine
I am fine”

I fasted
Tried to see what it is to not have you
Tried to release your hand
I lasted
Maybe a moment or two,
I allowed myself to starve of you,
But what hors d'oeuvres could compare
What wine would I lick from my lips
And taste better than you there
I fasted
I failed
Let me hear your thumping ohm,
I am done with this nightmare
Take me home

I want to spread you on my toast,
And pour you in my coffee
Let me lick you off my lips for breakfast
And taste you on my morning breath

The tread up was quick,
Read my map before we
Stopped for a picnic
Kicking rocks, picking leaves
Eating berries on the trees
Incline and decline but nothing
We couldn’t face with ease
T’was a breeze

But at the top...
When we stopped,
When the mountain grew red
And the thunder below us
Causing sweat beads to shed
And hopefulness fled
We looked to each other
And cried
As my face and bones vulcanized
Of the bubbling magma
The struggling stagnant stance
Of our feet betraying us,
Standing nonplussed
Breathing croaky and gruff
I huff,
You hum

What have we done

When the fatigue of the tree festers
When the leaves weep
And side-sweep
And sap leaks of the arboraceous bole
The foul smell of dampened,
Fermenting flora
The bog
The muck
The moor
Forever grot and grunge
But never moans,
Never loathes the morning
Never curses the sun for rising
Or hexes the moon,
Or thinks life bleak or banished
It settled in its mold
The duty it was told,
It’s destined purpose
As a puddle upon plates of terrain,
A tamed stain, remaining unmoved
And unaffected by
You and I,
Unaffected by passerby’s
Translucent and still,
Entirely exposed and yet unseen
Insouciant,
Tranquil
Composed
Serene

I have a hollow part of me,
That is chartered for use,
Named
Owned
Signed and sold

It’s molded for only one kind
No other hands can hold
No other ears can hear what’s told
No other’s love can find
No other’s soul can wholly bind