It kept building, in the way all things do
Like a rising crescendo.
It took one and half years to break me:
The distance, the disease,
The divorce
The accumulation of pennies in my jar,
One for each heartbreak
I am become afraid of my own kitchen,
Of too many noises
Of trusting things I thought were mine,
My stability crumbles on sandy foundations
The tighter I hold, the greater the cold.
Its not within me yet,
but the many lashed open wounds
Might yet grant entry
To fill the warm spaces that were emptied
A bloodless, blood loss eviction
I write this to stand guard
Against new tennants

And I am afraid
They may have already arrived
Or perhaps
They never left

Go into space-

Where are

The

Boundaries?

Some days it seems
The gleaming city across the river
Is not just built of glass, but mirrors
I see myself in every face I pass,
I do not go there often

Dear hands,
You have created me
As I have created with thee,
Not quite fine,  my dear
It's time,  my dear
to change.

And now,  
as sunlight turns to dusk,
Though you've scribed me in the dust
Peerless portrait on the floor,
The iron room has locked it's door
Behind me

My friends,  
it's time for me to rest
Though I know you did you best
But the light is growing dim
And you know I cannot swim
In shadow

My art
I had scrawled it in the dark
And now it is torn apart
Not quite fine,  my dear
Divine,  my dear
Goodnight

Death,
an absence of life.
A disconnection of the soul from the body,
The extrapolation of nothingness
The encroachment of cold
The cessation of zest
Betrayal.