The rain has been filling up my spiritual well,
well it's better than being empty.

I saw another to share myself
but it was bait to trap and tempt me.
My heart has snapped in so many places
you gaze on and just see the spaces.

I relent; go be content.

Go seek another then.
I told you I was bleak and broken,
happiness is beyond my ken.
So blind myself, the wrong words were spoken.
I'll stick to my diligent pen.
All I seem to share is pain
so I cry by myself to help the rain.

This ink bleeds
words of betrayal from a lacerated mind.
My fountain heart pumps more imagination.
My pen has an inspiration unkind.
No fruit to be had
yet I hold the rind.
I'd like to find love
but I couldn't find time.

Devastation ravages a tight-knotted soul.
Create room for another.
Make space for a lover.
How far will I fall down that rabbit hole?
The nature of my yearning is conflicted.
A golden road of good intentions
has led down a path convicted.
Followed by all my bad contentions
Winds of Fortune continually shifted.

You see the siren but not the rocks.
A skeleton key but found no locks.

Isolation is seen from the weak to kings.
Desolation leaves no crowns nor rings.

Rickity-tickity-clak. Onomatopoeia for a bygone age.
Soon the distinct, sometimes irritating/sometimes soothing signals
of a box sailing along a track will be stuck in the past.
A vintage sound.

Dreaming cat beside me
teaching ease.

Desire burns through
the clothing of my civility
as easily the fumbled ember from my cigarette.

Hunger hurts. I have hunger pains.
Last night in a dream I murdered my mother.
What to do with tenacious voracity?
Uncalm, I wait. Breathing.

Who couldn't love a cactus?
To whom would the returned invitation to cuddle be addressed?

My points of pain are a fractal regressed.
My existence is clear
although I am muddled.
I dream of mud, huddled.
How can I know that which is not expressed?

Dragged through the desert a stressed wanderer arrives gritted, worn.
I call in a hush.
Spittle on the lips;
they throw themselves on spines, torn.
Water from the body washes over dry cells, lush.
My embrace is for the bold, a test.

I rejuvenate.
Straight from the heart is so fresh.