I have swallowed ambition
and forested glory
to produce for you
the words that guide the story

along a path of branches
a soothsayer marks their prayers
with blood and spattered innocence

and gripping dirt patterns
my foot dangled from the ceiling
cascading lingering feelings of doubt
to walk away from the parchment laid bare

what were the dreams i used to have
daylight hallucinations brought by
some unknown chemicals
in unknown quantities
that did pulse through my veins

bound to the ground
i walked among the heavens
and did sup on the knowledge they gave
if only for the instant between dawn and dusk
so that i might know the color of the universe

endless parades that i did watch
infomercials at 4am
buy now while supplies last
enough to fill a lifetime

and moments better spent reading
were spent in the hollow of my own mind
watching stars fight
and discussions had
on the meaning of nothing
were these really the good old days

i woke up a specter of my former self
a hollow casting that used to be filled
with promise and ambition
that slowly faded away as i sat fixed
upon the chair which bore my name

strangely intangible
the feeling of having woken up ready
able to take on what's coming head on
and it's now barely a memory
as i quietly make my coffee in the dark

i am not ready now
to be filled with indifference and hardened disposition
cold and unfeeling i must lurch forward
until i reach my destination with reluctance
a way to keep myself alive

so only that i might find it again
and remember what it was like to be filled with light
to do whatever it is that i may please
in pursuit of the entirely superfluous
the lighthearted and the lazy
******* I miss the weekend

if i could write all the words
that needed to be written
to open the pages up to you
so that you might see my heart
and know that it is for you
so that you might love it back

and that when you wake up weak
i'll be there to separate you from the *******
you might know peace and quiet
and gain your strength back

light broken into arrows that pierce the heart
like the ones that bend from the tears in your eyes
and the darkness that came from the words you wrote that night

scribbled on a napkin
your final words to me
"you might want to get yourself checked out"
"the doctor told me I have ******"

what madness does find me at this hour
before the sun rises and our shame sleeps
that i might find myself in a lackadaisical daze
drifting in and out of awareness of the world around me
and on the shores of my consciousness
do i find a wayward scrap of a memory lost long ago
where i saw you standing in the moonlight

and you did dance, as i recall

staring emptily into the abyss of the soul
astounded at its chasms and respiratory failures
an inability to breathe in the toxicity of subconscious desire
and drowning in its own shallow loneliness

a raft was built
to carry me on the flow of memory and pain
that do associate itself with your images
the ones that had tried to be forgotten
and twisted through the entirety of time
now seem like a movie playing backwards
where the ****** was two strangers walking away from one another
never to have known each other again

i am dizzy
sitting, spinning
careening out of control

losing my place
never winning the race, pacing
back and forth i lie shaking
while hungry buzzards pick at my soul

heart revival, perspired desire
revels softly with patience growing thin
a cadence dancing
some might call it prancing
across the empty court-field

lets all sing a song
while we wait for mourning eyes
that upon death's doorstep might they play
but sadly mistaken,
the poor road less taken,
has led us to life's light astray.

and rambling, ambling
swiftly i am still spinning,
like the bathwater does 'round the drain
emotionless crying,
a soul left denying,
it would be better to have been set,
left in place.