Minutes, seconds and hours
Fleeting and innocent
Conveniently avoiding our grasp
They beckon to us
Separate us from our holdings
Declare war on our values
Alluring, provocative
Raising our pleasure
By supplying a deadline
A moment of finality
A time of reckoning
Reasoning
True love
Divided by passion

Tell me of a day without struggle, a day without pain
If there be such a day, let it remain a secret to no man
Let it fill our ears and tremble in our own throats
For such a day is a gift from the universe
Bequeathed upon the masses
An approximated apology, focused on redeeming malice
The brightly shining sun would focus its strength on its object
Taking aim at his soul, meaning to warm it, looking to extract it
Taking from him all that was harmful from tarrying seconds
Replacing cruelty and hatred with thoughts that resemble forgiveness
But in themselves they are not forgiveness
Forgiveness, being but a specter, usurped by memories grown grainy
Forgiveness is so sallow and downtrodden, unconvincing
No, the thoughts projected by the early year’s sun are not so
They are empty of reminisces, void of meaning
Shining and new, redemptive and rejuvenating
Yet we approach them with a quiver of arrows fastened from our past
Expending ourselves in fighting its gaze and retreating to our caves
Where our memories are sheltered
To ponder what it means that this intruder has returned
Stroking the identities it tried to quell and weeping until overtaken by slumber
If ever there has been a day without pain and without struggle
Verily, the night which followed has it cast asunder

Spectrous aberrations of youth
Surround him, embrace him
Leaving him disoriented, dismayed
Amidst sultry belongings
He’s tethered to that pole of vicissitude
Draped by disfavor
Postmarked Valhalla
Addressed to Folkvangr
Teased by irreverent lovers
In pursuit of contentment
His chronicles restart
In an unpublished testament
Bound by leather, cows unfettered
One lifeless body stationary
Crimson streams part chalk-dry lips
As love’s guillotined victim drips
His future’s fortune forsaken
Willingness to triumph in battle
Leaks from this dimension
With each fluxing discharge
Of her stream’s outgoing apathy
And his fluid permeates alluvium
In streambeds near life’s summit

******* crazy man, I hear you
It’s sad to think about it
What opportunities were available back then!
Insanity to forego the pleasures of flesh
Such reason is often demanded by choices
But to say what is better is not to question
Our existence
And why we’re here
Can’t be determined
As everything surrounding us quickly decays
And leaves in its stead a flaccid, moist eminence
Straight from the plane beyond
More despicable than death
And intolerable under pleasant conditions
Which never exist
For the world’s forsaken
And we’ve killed our king
Before he could ward off our enemies

Beyond the distance of
Your scent
Too meek to glimpse your eyes
I watched your wrists tremble
As you wrestled Gaia
As you laughed
And danced
Animating me by mere proximity
My legs thrashing in the water
My mind gasping for air
I was submerged
As the sheath of beauty, the essence of ambivalence
Embraced me with cunning

Scenery contains emotions
Mostly anxiety
Surroundings enclose me
As I speed through them
Sitting sideways, on a train
My bag’s somewhere near me
And you don’t care what’s in there
Which is ok, there’s nothing for you
But I grin, thinking of how strange that is
And everything’s better now
I’m not coming to visit

I’m stumbling slowly through this life
Each step is overwhelming
Every time I put one foot on the ground
The other is pulling away from it
Isn’t this walking?
In a way, I suppose
But it’s not at all relaxing, as walking should be
I rarely manage to notice the breeze on my cheek
Constantly I plunge into the depths of evening
Only to emerge dry and unscathed in the morning sun
Every sorrow and worry that encompasses me
Vanishes, when I turn my attention away
And I fail to notice
That I’ve only failed to notice
As they all devour my flesh
Each anxiety writhing and coursing through my veins
It’s terrible, but my memory is gone so soon
Then again it happens
And I’m vexed
But it passes
Again and again
Every day, tormenting
Every night, strife
And I fear the morning, for it brings the cycle’s renewal
Each birth, a sentence
Each breath, an exhalation of animosity
Although I can’t calculate the fear
It rages un-quantified
And I can’t measure the distrust
But my hands shake
I tear the sheets off my bed in terror from my sleep
And the sweat I bathe in is pitiful