Your songs sweeten this bitter passing,
   Lord, rudder me through to calmer waters.
Your words secure my departing,
   Lord, restore my shredded sails
For this last crossing.

But first let me stay a story longer,
Tell me tales from our voyage together:
Of past storms soothed,
Of old foes bested.
   Lord, ready me to weather this course
To its end.

every night i wish on stars
i wish that i had been born with endings
because all i have are beginnings
too many to count
loose ends
fraying thread on a patchwork quilt
i am all beginnings and absolutely no endings
and i wish more than anything
that i wasn't
i wish i was more than reckless abandon
more than leaving things to the wind
more than crumbling buildings
more
i wish i was more than beginnings

Taking medication may be fastening together the seams that could split. Between SSRI, HRT, and caffeine the moments speed, fleeting before I secure my grip. What's the point of living as a zombie losing opportunity through barely there fingers? I can be **** for you, I'm fond of pleading on my knees, tongue over my teeth, waiting patiently for my mouthful -- but what's point? What would it solve to introduce a controlled study meltdown? Well, I see the seasons coming at first light. Spring and Fall pull balance apart. So pull apart, because these meds don't help when my mind conspires without me, but with the world. Leave me alone. I'm caught gazing at the canvas in the white on walls. If it appears I'm choking, I am. I choke myself to gasping near to death as a means to depart from my leaden regret. Do I grow wings? No. Do I ascend? No. Do I myself then deify? No. It takes endlessly repeated little deaths to prevent permanent disintegration in passion's cruel flame.

Time, a concept
Accordion pleated
Billowing,
Retracting,
Mocking,
Permitting
Disappearing

pillows of wind, freezing the minuet dew drops on each blade of grass,
tiny ice goblets
dutifully every morning.

it whistles, slipping between
the barren trees,
curling around the crumbling houses
built in the '70s
a time when,
they may have kept us sheltered from Mother Nature's ghastly wrath.  

whispering against the window panes, creeping past the glass frames.
icy hands claw their way across the floor, up the bed posts
beneath the sheets.  

gliding cold fingers up my legs,
down my spine. wrapping themselves around my neck,
the fire in my eyes has died.
sweet release, a gradual fading light.

my heartbeat slows,
though inches away,
warm & unaware you lie.
boney tendrils squeezing
as I drift to my glacial demise.

Just by having a look at your face makes me feel better,
It is like a magic spell,
Which can heal wounds up,
Can not help it but smile.
That how effective you can be,
When it comes to me