come home to me
leave the past behind
all of those pains and scars
dead
you keep them breathing
and alive
feeding them
filet and lobster
with that they'll never tire
who could
the ground spins in retrospect
and nothing moves quite as it should
the tree limbs shake and crumble
the weight unbearable even under the owl's watchful eye
broken and lying on a bed of leaves
walking the night
moon high
us too
tears fall hard and we shout
louder you say
but i've no voice left
my shouts died with my last hanging
hands once soft and loving
now placed around my own throat
strangling out the silence
muting my words
my work, unfiltered
but only on walls that won't see the daylight
scars stitched haphazardly
opened up, projected
violent rage of reason
i am not the driver, nor the guidance system
my direction a vague notion upon a nautical spread
while you loop
tires spinning on dusty roads
the valley calls
but the signal always fails
silence the end note to my questioning