Each honest hour
Rests upon the rusted arm of a broken clock.
Minutes move in mercurial time.
I touch the bottom of my boot,
Feel the dirt, the grit, the mud -
I am forgetting my old self again.

As I reach up through the leaves of this apricot tree,
Tremors of blue jays whirl around me,
Freezing the fat billows of fog stagnant and still
Outside my splintered and smeared window.
I recall a friend in the same place as I -
Weren't we all young at one point in time?

He pushes the envelope forward. Instead of a trembling
Hand, the story of past lives lingers in the pupil of his eyes.
Love was once all of him, like his breath or finger's touch.
Genius underneath and between the words,
He leaves the scene like a jackal would with his prey;
A fire can only burn for so long, until it burns out.

A roaming shadow floats across black potted' sidewalks.
Fall is here and there is no one sitting near.
How fragile man can be when given the opportunity to love.
Too soon are we forgetting that in between dreams,
Lies the reality of our hesitations and insecurities;
Too long have I seen the guilty holding themselves back.

"We only live once," explained the gypsy, taking a cigarette from
Behind his left ear, "And ye' eyes say that your life is yet to be lived."
The gypsy leaned forward, as if he had something to whisper or to give,
"Tell your darkest fears to the world, boy. We both know you will listen to them, but,
Understand, the world will listen also."

"Really?"

"As long as it has something to do with them."

A prayer never worked for me. Maybe it works for some, but not me.
I see no fuel for motivation other then from within. Whose fault is it,
If not one's own? We are the spectral chances spouting forgotten languages
In a disordered syntax. What has been done will be done again, all fueled
By another great war, one with bullets, money, or brains.

Chances abstain from the one's who fear them. They are like
Good looking woman at bars: long hair, infinite grace, diamond tassel
Eyelashes, chocolate chartered accents, attitudes with license plates, and
A river of unpaid parking tickets. Their bar tabs could feed a family of four
And every time they show, the men come back, looking for more.

Instead of hating them, give them reasons to hate you.
Their jealousy is as flimsy as a rubber arrow.
Attack whatever you do like it were the last thing you would ever do.
A fish does not question why it swims, the fish simply does.
And those that look for answers from above, will only hear the winged' flight of doves.
Seek one's wisdom inside and out, not only from the four-year ride.

Admitting defeat, the minstrel player swings his arms over his eyes,
Allowing the final note of his final symphony catapult accordingly.
Each note notates itself to the scribe. Another dollar. Another ride.
I've never been so cold and disheartened in my entire life.
Drink the wine and unwind as the pillow sewers spin and pin.

200 days to insanity. A hallow bullet with confetti inside. Another prayer for the non-believer.
A worn book sits on a dusted shelf. The boy likes to read. He spells it right.
The push before the end is as gentle and caring as the fall of the first angel.
Forgetting oneself in action, takes the edge off most things.

The trick is surviving
After you get back.