La Vida En La Villa Strangiato


Wondering what remains inside this aged shell...
  are there any poems still wanting me to tell?
will the words still write themselves
  when I whisper sweetly inside myself?

Even as broken as i remain
  shuddering within this shattered domain
are there star stories still in these skies
  cuz I still see them in my inner eyes

Music is terrifying
  touches far too deeply and truly
My muse no longer clarifying
  i'm left bereft and too unruly

death hath touched me too many times recently
  continuing to steal amazing beings from me
and his evil cousin cupid
  keeps ****** me almost as hard

that verse was all about meaning
  with zero respect for rhyme
the thing is,
oh aseptic poem ****...
*******

blech blah meh in my maw
  hate the taste of pain this raw
days weeks months years ago
  none of it has the decency to just go

i'm tired
  inside
never been this tired
  even when hope first died

believe it or not
  i still laugh a lot
but it's a momentary meeting,
  ephemerally fleeting

why is limbo a frozen inferno
  how why does it burn so badly
and why does it ******
  at my emotional chasm

almost everything that's me is amiss
  mostly unable to miss this abyss
the one void i can't avoid
  the tattoo inside i can't hide

suppose i should be glad to still feel
  but i sure would like to finally ******* heal  
is what I want from and for me merely in purgatory
  or is my end game destiny an eternal empty

cuz, you noe, like i always used to say sometimes,