A poor dead house
simpering in the gallows
of a just regret.
an uncoupling of a sun
from it's moon.
leaning in the southern north
of a belligerent east.

the paint is failing.

and the windows face oblivion...
but the staircase
leads to heresies
so beautiful, the march hare screams -
and all whimsy folds.

the old things youthen
in the marsh of our misgivings
and the rooms are bare
save one hope

choking the stars
for a god.

every song
one note.

Where are you now
Seemed like you were on my back
Holding me back
With that warm embrace

Your warm memories sigh
Seem so benign
Don't step out of line
As well you know your place

The solace you sought
Was to give a millstone
Beguiled and betray your tone
I'd have you back again

Held me so close a cloistered prince
Thrive on your hypoxic high
On your placental supply
Ectopic asphyxiation

This wrath of utter stubbornness, Shouting at me, tranquility of nothing but spilled wine on the floor, shouting like a mad man!

Is all that is left to love.
The grey hair and stubborn face
And weak eyes but steady gaze
All these years left to pace,
My love for you.

Between thin lines of rage and the grey collar on your neck
Handsome brawl of 4 scores and three
Is all left for me
And i marvel between wrinkled eyes
And laugh with all the bitter smiles
And remember this on a sudden while
The walk to the alter.
For there stood the same man before me,
Now grey hair and youth free
And all that belongs to me
In this life and forever.

My oath to you is fair and true,
For love is old and nothing new
The grave's cold but not our hearts,
beating for one another.

quiet desperation has landed
loudly upon my face

youth-fueled dreams faded
promises now weighted
down
to aching
inside my rib cage
to my stomach pit
for someoneness
for somewhereness
for
me

immobilized and
frighteningly uninspired
standing on the edge
of great love
or the collapse of the coward
relief drives a hard bargain