when all the richness within "life"
turns to gleaming misery
will you come nurse a beer and a smile with me
before that altar of the end that howls for a blacker oblivion
than it already tastes on the tongues of those of us
willing to dream it up

that question was meant to be confusing
a wilderness our inner children
can skip off into while we make a home from the horror
bleeding out of the voids they leave behind

i think

my certainty is an empty throne these days