It's impossible to
Build something
Worth the effort
If the pieces
Won't go back
Together

For sure
Bronze has stronger draw
Than silver.
Though silver
Made me who I am.
It started at the tip of my tongue
Coaxed it's way down my throat
And coated my lungs
Sweeter than honey
Yet sharper than steel.
It recoiled, however
Returning to nothing
So I thought nothing more
Of the things that shine in this world.
Silver was what I chose
Because silver was pure.
Silver cannot be blamed
For the sin that passes the lips.
For whatever alloy
Coated my airways
The message
Would have been
The same.
The only alteration
In the delivery.
Our past is shameful,
Mine especially,
Yet they have no bearing
On our future.
As the choice in metal
Has no bearing
On the words spoken.

What, then
Do you recommend
For reverberation
Of the soul?
When nature
In all her glory
Decides instead
To turn the heavens
Into an assault.
Pouring thunder,
Lightning
Down my throat
As I pour the dark
Sludge of resentment
From my ears
In return.

That means something
Very different
To both of us.
The rushing water
May work as your filter
But we both know
That to purge
I need pain
Blood
To force out the hurt.

No, not always.
Without oxygen
Or sufficient fuel
The flames will die.
Though I will be honest,
There are flames I thought
Had been extinguished,
That I now think
I make have been
Mistaken about.
I don't think gasoline would help.
It tends to explode,
And I'm already in so many peices.

I'd like to return there
To tiptoe between the cracked hulls
Gilded with rust as if golden pillars.
Our faces reflected
In the puddles on the floor
Uncharacteristically happy
For though we were soaked
With despair
We were warmed
By an exchange of emotion.
It's true,
Passage of time dulled the shine
As honeyed words grew bitter
Yet inspiration always returns.
The boards can be fixed.
Remember, it is never too late
To chase dreams.
They are difficult to chase,
As fireflies on a moonlit night
Just follow the tangled line,
See where it leads.
I admit my eyes
Have also wandered the heavens
Pondering the outcomes
Of a million variants
Of choices made.
Just as it is never too late
To chase dreams,
It is never too late to set sail.
We may need to mend the sails
Perhaps patch the bilge,
By tomorrow we could
Be letting the water lead us
Where we are supposed to be.

It doesn't hurt
When they leave
Only because
I know it's
Going to happen.
I'm used to
Self medicating.
If I hurt when they leave
My medicine cabinet
Is fully stocked anyway.

A fair point,
But you know me.
I've never been good
At drawing my own map.
There's too many
Straight lines.
Besides, my hands shake
Too much.

It may be a finite resource,
But it's most precious.
Rich with iron,
The only ****** fluid with
Which you can smith
A sword.
You know I've always
Felt more at home
In the dark.
Treading water
Is sometimes
Too much.
And I'll return to
The dirt when
It's my time
To do so.
The only thing that
I know for sure
Is that pain doesn't
Feel real
Unless it comes from within.

I've never been partial to sound.
I do enjoy a sweeping melody
Though not near as much
As a carress.
An affectionate embrace.
To merge souls through skin.
Temptation is fleeting
Though I've been too weak
In the past.
Except when I was too strong.
Yet the times I was tempted most
Was when the temptress
Would not look my way.