There are times
When the clock
Stands still
And has no use at all

There are times
When the hourglass
Is empty
Without  a single speck of sand

There are times
When true love
Is not the fiery flame of bursting rose petals

But holds the guilty pleasure
Of a freshly exhaled cigarette
Crying its way into split grey and blue wall paper
Water stains splattered around
Like a shotgun blast
To the temple
Of Pollack

In this hour of stillness
The sound of dripping water
Is like
A solitary fortress
Filled with Ancient
Chinese gongs

The crow taunts with universal preciseness
Staining itself with blind savageness

They are like my ex's
Crying for
More and more
Love

Here
This place of pink eraser head monotony
Head bobbing as blue faced doctors
Flick their butts into the eyes of God
Their names being called half way through their break
Their lives being spent and bent around the dismal dead
Their lives to be revealed as the table of savage time slowly slowly turns
And they will look into the eyes of the young and say...
"That was me once"

But here
In this lapse between love and loneliness
Ambition and Ambivalence
Passion and Impotence
Elegance and Clumsiness

This place I
Clumsily
Naively
Stumbled upon

Where the block is ****** with heads
With all that have come before me
Strewn mile long entrails
Lining a wooded dust covered stage
As  thousands of peering peasants and tight tipped thieves and makeshift martyrs and raving royals
Watch
With keen and stale horror

Here where eyes and ears and teeth belong to everyone who has ever lost

Men and women
Lift their heads
Towards the last stretch
Of key clicking
Infinity

Here
In this place
I turn and stare into the gritty haze
Of the past

I turn again
Like the wheel of mismatched fortune
Toward the blinding illusion
Of a future
With no clear stars

In this place

A lone tree poses atop a hill of fire and death and freedom
And I stand
Beside it

As if
It were

My only

True

Friend