He falls asleep without any thoughts
And awakes each morning
Living –
It is called,
But only through the memories
Of past memories;
Crawling through his lungs,
Heaving while his empty fists collapse
For lives past –
For the particles of meaning
And the substance of kings and poets.

His days this way are long and desultory,
But even so,
They are his.
Belonging only to him,
Until he falls asleep again
And the void consumes him
Once more.

My bodies fate is intertwined with
the lies buried in my mind.
My minds eye is tangled within
these rupturing heart strings.

Winter has died a slow intermittent death,
brings on this hostile term, seasoned
with a blood red sun. I am left to search the
horizon for signs of fleeting delight.

Lucid dreams, and fading memories spark
images of beauty and wonders untold.
I feel the simple caress of steel upon my happy heart,
manifesting itself as white roses in the springtime.

Yes, winter is dead, and now all the beautiful women,
with the hair of fire must file their discord.
Their images, working in the late afternoon, in the fields below
my window, are left to marinade in my psyche - engrained.

I take mental pictures of these uninhibited images staring back at me,
to my horror they form a mirror who’s reflection is - my own.
My twin shadow you see, crept up on me in my defenseless slumber,
past the window of my personality disorder hangs a photo of me
If only I could find someone who cared enough to set me free.

Autumn breeze frigidly touches ailing dreadful lives
Harshly darkness quietly surrounds the broken souls
Mellow serenades that once played between hearts
Pathetically have transformed into bitter sad songs

Somewhere beyond the flossy clouds
Cupid has lost his romancing arrows
Plays sad sonorous tunes on his bow
Dedicated to all weepy lonely hearts

Howling chilly wind blows through the mist
Sounds of sorrow spread allover the place
Fuzzy humid air submerges the inner lust
Lives decay slowly as the autumn leaves fall...

Loves memory has traced our outline in this place.
But will the spider remember, or the sun?
Did the water capture our faces in permanence?
Does the wind create us anew as it blows?
Did the shadows from the trees record our passage beneath them?
Our secret been revealed.
Yet I have told no other.
I write these words in silence, in mute testimony
To what once was.
But our image remains alive in this place.
It can not be removed.
You, me,
We then,
Were here.
We saw the day and hoped for tomorrow.
We caught a brief glimpse of love's promise.
We were not liars,
But thieves of time.
For now time has now forgotten us,
Yet our memory lingers, and love remembers
This place that was ours.

Tear down the curtains, hide the walls behind another layer of paint
Draw swirls of different colors and visualize a map of our distant fate
The directions we are heading prove the unimportance of all this pressure
The spring is here, the sun has arrived in time to put an end to our adventure
We’ll dust, shake out, and wipe down every corner of our minds’
And when the moon shows up, the party will carry over into the night
There’ll be laughter, drinks, and awkward glances to fill the spaces between words
We’ll beg for a repetition of the words we thought we heard
And realize the ideas that had been shared were nothing but absurd

There was a night where we forgot, and remembered what never truly was
The lives that we created were fueled by a mixture of ignorance and love
When the forest fires had spread into our homes from the falling leaves
Burning the memories that led you to a place you didn’t wish to see
It left behind only pictures to remind you of the beauty that you used to be

Remain within a blanket, to protect you from the creatures of the night
Too scared to reveal your skin, too nervous to reach for the light
So you enjoy watching the shadows as they dance across the scarlet sky
The sights that no one else could see were carved deeply into our eyes
So the hopes we shared in your daydreams were never really lies
They convinced us that they were while they secretly envied our minds
Without you the world would be empty, a tomb for those who never tried  
And we would all be searching the horizon, waiting for a dead sun to shine

When the sunlight starts to scorch the sky
You could find a million truths
But there is always one more lie
This has grown to be the only thing I expect
When the answers seem so crystal clear
And they all say what you want to hear
We’ve lasted through another year
But I’ll be ****** if we make it through the next

For every moment you’ve gone unrecognized
There is a deeper story, another grasp-less prize  
And the final rumor spread about our worthless lives

If there is one thing you can learn from me
I can show you what it’s like to be empty
In the moonlight we will learn to never fear the dark
And in the morning, when you awake
You’ll begin to forget every thought,
And every face
Until the only thing you are left with is the urge to fall apart

These agitated periods of sleep-speech were mercifully brief.
And when they ended she would subside for a time, sweating and panting as if,
Into a state of dreamless exhaustion
Then abruptly she would awake
Convinced in her disoriented state,
There was an intruder in her head.
There was no intruder.
The intruder was absence
A negative space in the darkness
All was lost to her, like paradise.
Like Kashmir
In a time before memory.
Trapped in this city
She had lashed out in despair.

In such a city there can be no grey areas
Or so it seemed.
Things were what they were
And nothing else.
Unambiguous,
Lacking the subtleties of drizzle, shade, and chill.

Under the scrutiny of such a sun
There is no place she can hide.
No mysteries here, or depths;
Only surfaces and lies
Yet to learn the city was to discover illusion.
This banal clarity was nothing more then, nothing.
The city was all treachery, and deception, all the same
A quick change, quicksand metropolis.
Hiding its true nature from those staring at its name.
Pretending to be content
Guarded in secret
In spite of all its apparent nakedness and bleakness.

In such a place, even the forces of destruction no longer needed the shelter of the dark.
She burned out of the morning’s brightness, dazzling the eye and stabbed me with sharp and fatal light
Loveless, and blind
Born in the midst of the firestorm of courage.
Twisted and ruined.
The lands of possibility misbehaved.

A dishonest nursery
The blueness rich with sorrow, which filled the evening sky
That made the world look childlike and pure. Such an unnatural disguise.