I still care.
Sitting behind the net curtain,
I burn incense to cover the smell
of cigarettes and watch the street
fill up each morning. I may have grown
old and fat and short of sight, but you know
I remained as half a person with a childhood mind.

The bodies come.
Mass graves as far as the eye
can see, and yet still I think of you
and how you patterned your hairstyle
to the changing of your moods. I wonder
how you are looking today, how you are feeling.
Though I am finding grey in my whiskers, I still care.

I paint now.
Nothing special, just irises
from the neighbours garden.
I grew tired of writing  once I found
that there was nothing to show for it.
I am too lazy to tend to a garden that
creeps up around me, I have given up on

trying to out-run the world.
I still care. Somewhere beyond
cynicism and charcoal, I still care.

A plastic bag without a handle
A pair of straps without a sandal
A briefcase with rusted locks
A pair of old worn out socks
A never used candelabrum
An empty jar of finished gum
A broken door iron cage
A lost book’s tattered page
A piece of cloth insect holed
An old calendar neatly rolled
A fluorescent light long dead
A clay puppet’s broken head
A fountain pen sans its cap
An old atlas dusty map
A bunch of cassette in tin box
Nails and screws unused locks
Cable tape wire and plug
Grandpa’s brolly faded rug

Can’t disown throw them out

Fond attachments without doubt!

This silent choice you've made  
Is hung in the shape of a willow tree
Branches intertwining around my bruising flesh
Twisting and churning into a leafy cage from you to me  
Yes
I've noticed it

And I scream out to try and get your attention again
To try and get you to look into my eyes like you once did
My 3 a.m. bloodshot eyes
Which drive you further away with every thin line of red across their glassy surface
But in daylight well disguised
Dressed up in paper jokes and drawn on smiles
That burn my flesh to put on and take off  

And What kind of melodrama is this?
This dull story
Perhaps any excuse to not be happy will do me
You amongst many the piece to my puzzle
Or maybe
this is simply a poignant reminder of the time we have lost together

At the end of a long dirt road
Hidden in a jungle of wild grass and weeds
There is a stone path encircling an ancient oak
Hugging and holding to her roots for dear life.

Forgotten stone that once held a purpose
Left to rot and decay
Once lead to a large regal home
Once lit by fireflies dancing in the warm summer breezes.

Walked on over the ages
By children, grandchildren, and friends
As time passed the home became abandoned and eventually burned to the ground.
But the stone path still remained.

A path to nowhere
So sad and lonely
All reason extinguished from present day
No longer useful
No longer pristine
No longer needed
Just existing
A part of a lost past, that will never be rebuilt