Death toll on the rise
pain and suffering none too wise
Tragedy in unexpected moment
disaster in life a torment
can the heart fanthom life
Doth life answer worldly strife
Past a history to write
future a clueless path to light

Claying in through desert fads
Like some of those old Utah lads
The perrenial sun is the scorching one
Like dumped up logic in deafed up pun
Passing through the graveyard cross
Halcyon of the deep loss
Now way ahead of time strands
The fanthom mark reminds me errands
Of every dawn that strikes me whole
Reminds me- for time, there's no dole
I can stop at mark and sob indeed
But a purpose lives, over I feed.

The jagged cut from the dull, serrated blade of rejection. I lay down for you wounded, asking for healing and compassion. The absence of your touch wakes me to the shooting pain up my leg.
The infection of grief is growing as the reality sets in looking down where my leg once was.

I am an amputee.

My leg, my foundation of who I am, has been hacked off without anesthesia.

This separation procedure has taken months of sawing. Startled wake today hemeragging emotions at the wound of your disregard.  Doc explained I've been experiencing fanthom limb...

"But we've been walking together, side by side. I've felt the strength and balance of two legs. When/how did this happen? " I protest in disbelief

Standing next to the mangled discarded remains, "one cut at a time" you reply coldly, the dripping blade still in your hand.

"But perhaps we will walk together again once you have time to adjust to your prosthetic"

I've loved the wrong people
But I've loved them right
I've learned how to love
The people I shouldn't have
I've given up my heart
I've shown up my art
Expected what they couldn't give
But I've done it right
I've loved purely and bravely
But the direction was misguided
But I can't help to fanthom
That maybe one day
The right person will show
And I won't love him right.

you got me
caught up in this metaphor
that is life

and

now
i cannot fanthom
what is wrong
and what is right

and

if only i could be honest with you
i would like you to know

that

all these writing that i do
is just a distraction from you

I travel back to the time you
Wanted to memorize my face
In each corner of your soul
I cannot fanthom how
It was easy to forget me
In the blink of an eye
I was gone
You never bothered to wonder
Where

where does he go his lonely way, here she she lay, does it fanthom the pure hay
just a naughty gurl without a past and a little soar of park

sufi el que miente de la ordinaria idea de un narauelogo
el que se somete a lucidez el arlededor de un ojo, que ves el hombre

pude decidir que el orden de la magia le pone lo malo a lo bueno

fuera la miresa de lo apologetico