A sea of ivy engulfs -- the house has grown comfortable in its plot
The specters are horrific even in victory
The door hangs heavy in hand
Idyllic -- I am a twisted tornado of hope  
We’ll scratch the pyrite off the laughter when we're  done

A conveyor belt --
Plate fork knife
Knife fork plate -- a hedonism of silverware
The shift and rise of the fear
Confident and full of splendor
Dancing on the edge of a dime between Cool hearted emptiness and the heated vitriol of truth
The dime continues its dance

Plate fork knife
Knife fork plate
We were here once long ago
A grandiose thought and a barren action
I was you once, once until the river flooded
I would be you again and that's a promise you told me
This maze outside our house is filled with friction and of our own design
Bolts and warped wood are the entry to our kingdom

Always entering the field of battle with stone in a field of steel
A warrior of words meant to leap the abyss between your joyous abuse and her scathing affection
Crumpled letters stapled to shields
Their words --
The hope they have is false -- the promises destined to go unfulfilled
The iron rises from the field and fills my mouth
It soaks and stains my smile
None of the enemy combatants can be trusted
There's blood on the table
There's blood on the table in all its grandest forms  




We're all in this separate reality of our own design
No one exists in here it's just us and that is the truly terrible part of it all
No one else wants to watch because we don't want them to

This is for us -- our amusement our self-hate our deep dive down into the mundane complacency of it all
This is ours -- our pain and sorrow and joy and false hope our faith -- our sit there smiling and laughing and talking about how your day was and who you are and how you have been. Remember that time when ... no, I don't remember and I never want to again because all of the laughs have been cheapened by your artful lies and the threat of your anger and the hulking shadow of your violence.

Accustomed to staring straight ahead, the color of your eyes the curves of your face I have forgotten them all. Your voice is mine and without it, I don't have one of my own.

So here is my great proclamation to a table of ghosts with shattered silverware and rotten delights.
I've tried and been true. Failure has come far more often than success and yet I celebrate you all. The wrong you have done has made me stronger. The right you have been having made me kinder. The hate in my heart will die and fade. And a man willing full of this world's wonder will remain.
And although....

Our imaginations have long since fled this land and all we are left with is our cold ****** selves and the fogged glass of our memories. We are one. We have shown up here in this world -- ready and willing to do and be something.  

Make no mistake we have all failed -- and maybe there lies the true miracle -- the true beauty behind all of this wretchedness that hurts so **** bad.

But then again, I excuse when there is no excuse to be had. I proclaim the guilty innocent and those that are innocent enough to stay by my side risk the cloud of my wrath.

And so maybe, maybe just this once I will fade off -- I have retired my horse and there are no sunsets left for me. In the best possible way, I hope to become the ether -- the nothingness that the universe has yet to put a name to.