Once, I read about a theme park
The roller coasters reached the bottoms of the clouds and
the speeds broke the sound barrier
Children went there daily
They laughed and they screamed and they smiled from dawn until dusk
They won prizes
and they were very much alive

I went to look up that theme park last month
The rides had all shut down
And they were completely still
Nobody had touched it in years
The streets of this city that were once full of life
Were dull and motionless
The windows were broken
The prizes were gone
The bright lights of all colors
were now empty shattered bulbs

The only emotion was empty
All of the happiness and joy
And the laughter and life
Was completely gone
I think of this often
How one place can hold such life one day
and the next be as good as dead?

I saw myself in this corpse
My body, decaying
The joy I would feel and the dancing and laughter has
now all turned to a blank slate of gray
My mind had shut it all away and I am nothing
I once held better days
But now I am a broken roller coaster
Abandoned and corroded
Because I once got so high
And I once moved so fast

But now I am frozen in my place, hidden away

Forgotten like an erased word off a paper

Once, I read about a theme park

And all I learned was I am empty too

I knew there was love in that attic

It had to be found

There was love in that attic

Lost and I found

Inspiration through word and thought

Old, red, romantic, poetry

To the north I’m lead

And I know I’ll find a place

Like these books a shelf

For after all

I’ve been dusted from the attic myself

Those fiery red books

I knew there was love inside

For I’m BookGuy

From me no man can hide

They needed no library, no vintage store

For the pigs live next door

And all they do is

*****, *****, *****

I know for I once lived in this thought

I played pig poker, smoked cigars

Even licked pig salt

Bust cast out ye stupid pigs

They have no authority

Some wise minority

For those dusty red things

Once lost and I find

For I’m BookGuy

I transcend time

I sweep the dust, death and decay

Reborn in red books

Roundelay, Roundelay

Your bones creak like old,
abandoned houses and it has
always been my first instinct
to explore them. My mother
always said that I was never
good at making the right
choices, but she doesn’t
realize that this isn’t a forked
path; it’s a convergent one.
Everything seems to lead to
you, and I’m sure if I’m
obsessed or just a mess.

You should know better than to
trust a girl who tries to find a
home in haunted houses. When
the furniture has been removed
and the paint begins to peel,
that’s when you’ll find me. When
the sky grows dark and the
shadows grow long, that’s when
you’ll find me. In the darkest
hour of the morning, following
the hallway to the leaking tap,
that’s when you’ll find me.

I’ve always been drawn to
devastation and decay.
Abandoned houses are a life
sized self-portrait. I will re-paint
the chipping walls. I will dust the
shelves and sweep the floors. I
will move in my own furniture
and leave the lights switched on
at night. I will fill the house with
music and laughter and love
once again. I will not let your
bones grow cold. I will not let
myself grow cold.

When you wake up and find
me sitting in the spaces where
your rib cage doesn’t
completely cover, I hope to God
that you’ll find it hard to
breathe.

I’ve worn escape in my eyes
From time to time
Disguised as lost sleep
I abuse

Watched foundations lapse
Into sand
Framing old dreams
In towers crumbling beneath

Spoke to sensory ghosts
Lacking heads
In silence they remind me
All passed is dead

Why do you fear the dead? They have only one face, albeit a decaying one.