to carry the weight of loved ones
with their golden hopes and leaden limitations
(founder/) requires:
an alchemist of dreams
with a concrete heart of indestructibility
and the type of love that is quiet,
dedicated,
and solid (foundation.)

there's always a line in the sand
between the then and the now;
how regrettable it is to have to be the one to draw it.

downstairs, we have newcomers.
across, they have settled.
us... we are ignoring the inevitable uprooting
of our hard-won memories.

My vessel of possibility
overflows and
drowns me opportunity.

madness,
creeping up
no not creeping--
swelling, crashing!,
frothing and spilling forth from the soul.

shaky hope,
desperation,
acceptance. loss.

abandon the ship and your cargo, ye slavers...
Typhoon Coming.

sometimes I cocoon myself
in pastel memories of
you
with that fuzzy blanket and that stuffed animal
I get wistful

and then reality jolts me
out of reverie
it was never an us thing
it was always a me with you thing
that old blanket provided no comfort
it clung to me
wrapping its frayed corners around my ankles

that cute little stuffed thing was not
a relic of happier times
it was a reminder
of all of the ****** up things in your head
which swirled around the dark
and crept toward me;

strangling me
under that heavy blanket

chugging
twanging
thumping
snarling -

no drugs needed; the tempo sends me into a tailspin of bliss.

a frightened ear would perceive a dirge but
to the acquainted
it can only be a hymn.