Those days with success
were bright as they should
Those nights with success
were dark as they should

Bright as the sun
dark as they shadow

Don't go near it thy
you won't come it by

Fly those days in mind
the bright sight of life

keep this key in mind
those days with success will fly...

A furious 'thud-thud, thud-thud' hammers my bones
as I whip shirt sleeves and scarves across my room
and into the small latch-lock box.
The one with the brown leather handle that smells
like things-so-old-they've-turned-to-air.
Long ago I lost the key but the shape of its missingness
is the most familiar thing left in this place.
Latch-key box latch-key house latch-key life.



My footsteps ricochet off the walls to the toc-toc of the witching hour.
I hail a cab and lament the bouncy back seat and pop tunes of the humming driver,
pay with an app so I don’t have to say goodbye.
Not to cab, not to town, not to room.
The high-pitched wails of the most popular human carting system
grates my melancholy between the tracks.
Claustrophobic, crammed into more boxes
I.
Hate!
Boxes.

I…
Can’t remember how I got here from there.
I sit at the airport waiting for a canceled seat so I can get the next flight to:

Anywhere, Extra Cheap.
I look at a clock and I shouldn’t have.

Footsteps haunting, tracks grating, bumping, wailing, mouth humming slow to a blur.
The family next to me carefully removing themselves from the smell of my suitcase.

“Latch-key box latch-key house latch-key life,” I tell them.

I’m laughing with you.
We sit at my piano
Video media records,
and I have the pleasure of watching us toss our heads back
Breaking neck smiles.
Play back our giggles
Mismatched notes
We don’t search our own accord,
Clash of chords
corded around each key.
Sitting on that bench is wearing socks of different pairs.


I am a fuzzy mid-calf, and you are an argyle knee high.
Socked in laughter.

If you act so tall
The harder you'll fall
The quicker you die
The easiest lie
Don't be confused
or act amused
Confidence is key
Let your heart bleed

Desperate was the Hand,
To the Fist,
To the Door of Introspection,
To the Mind, to the Darkness.

Pounding, pounding away,
The broken bones,
To the dust of flesh.

A moment before forfeit,
The Great Gate collapses.
Bursting into a torrential tide of Madness,
This scornful swell swam deep into the Heart.
Its suffocating chill, mirroring the growing Dissent,
Resonating all of discord in a living Thought.

Hope's last stand sends deceit fleeing.
Rushing waves, shuttering away,
From the pathetic kindle.
Such a sad flicker, this bastion of salvation.

As with All Things, this too falls.
The Darkness, the Madness,
The Door to all Doors,
Consumes the Light.