8am solo endless drives in
Purgatory
Will you remember me?
Will you still say say my say my name
Or have I disappeared into all these varying shades of 8am
Have I become the way I looked at him?
Will I fade here? Or will I reignite only to show you up
Turn up and burn up I know you never wanted me
Just wanted the person you imagined me to be
Now all I see is the white lines of this highway
Purgatory
Will you remember me?
Will this be
Forever?
8am fade out good so slow
I'm nobody's baby so nobody needs to know
My glass bloodwork and hazy brain
I know you don't see me the same
Purgatory.

Last night
I talked to you through
a tin can and some string.
You said you were okay
and then I was okay—
okay with everything.

Okay with everything.

I cannot hear, the past in my rear view mirror;
Nor the wheels rotations,
or motion's sensations;
While under a flower bouquet
182.88cm away from me.

Call me Old Soul
For I have come long and far
An incorporeal Traveler
A human spirit drifting beyond mortal bars

Once I knew of form
Felt the warmth of Sun on skin
But then my Life and World ended
My eternal Soul this trek to begin

In wake of Great War's destruction
My mind survived intact
And freed of a Body's limits
I fled Earth's Tomb never to look back

Passing beyond the Sky I reached the cosmic pale
And journeyed its Infinite Path through deep black void
Discovering worlds and witnessing endless cycles
Life born, life evolved, life destroyed

Sometimes I entered entities
Lurking within Consciousness unknown
Experiencing vicariously their joys and sorrows
The sharing of such my sweet gold

Always however my Wandering resumed
For the lure of Space was too strong
I found I craved the Freedom it gave
And as Impassioned Pilgrim moved on

Through my Span of Millennia and galaxies
I have read the Universe's story
I have raised the Veil to touch the mien
Of a Vast and Exquisite glory

Continuing on I shall discern new horizons
As the Depths of Existence I chart
Enduring therein as a Timeless observer
A spirit dancing lightly across the stars

When we close our eyes for the last time, where do we go?
Is it based on who we worship, or what we do and what we know?
Will the best people go to Hell for loving so-and-so?
Are we just pieces in the game that God foresaw?

I see an angel slouching,
In the sky, as if heaven
Were so heavy.

Seabird, where do you come
From?  Is the earth too much,
To take all in?

I know how you feel sailing,
Above it all yet drawn too,
As I am drawn.

Wraith, I want to feel that place
You are winging from here,
As now, forgetting.

  But it's so hard to fly,
  Unlike you, just easily,
  I will close my blind eyes
  And trail your mission starry.

I will tread in air backwards,
Deep into sky heavens,
Sloughing all the way.

your skin is the novel I never found the time to write
the kind to reside beside my bed
but every chapter is a break up letter to myself
and I keep passing them off as bed time stories - hiding them beneath your pillow in crumpled ***** of love notes
and god's word
you say you're not a prophet
but I swear you're the reason people still find comfort in the afterlife
and I stopped going to church after daddy left

I painted pictures of your chest
in every alter that would let me
but you're "not quite sure" how you feel about heresy
now you're sounding much like the pastor did on christmas,
with his drone of sinful scrutiny
and a pocket full of choir boys
you are the book in every top draw of every hotel ever slept in,
you are the force that brings babylon to its knees,
the hands that drowned the sea

If speech is bold then silence is gold,
the heart stays young yet the mind stay old,
whispering chants destroy the walls of our world - this prison,
even in Cold or Heated Hell. Whispers of Wisdom.

At war, after war; all but hell burned to dust,
Would survival depend, let us not pretend, on friends you can trust
Destroying dark demons of old; for all must
A battlefield for whispering angels, and devils of wartime lust.

Minds Anchored, Hearts plenty, yet no hesitation
To choose to alter course to develop potential,
Light and dark; never apart, both passive and active
Whispers of Wisdom reach us, whenever; whatever we practice.