if i could, i’d let it go -
long ago,
so you’d never know
how i felt
when you had me knelt
before the sinister
price i owe.

i gave you my world
with fists uncurled;
you gave me your spite
with a tongue that twirled
at the whims of a curse
so foul, it reeked
of a bane too vile,
and unreasonably
perverse.

can’t blame you, though,
the things i know
could rip the heart,
and have it show
the crimson shards of
memories jarred,
and a quiver so bare
from all the blows.  

perhaps,
there’s still a place for you
in my heart, that’s yet
to know what’s true;
but i cannot allow
my head to bow
to scorn, and spite,
to name a few…

i cried a river;
it wasn’t enough -
to whet my wits,
and call your bluff

i tried a thing,
or two, in vain;
i could not escape
the house of pain.

i lied to you -
didn’t occur to me,
‘t’d be so hard
to agree to disagree.

i hide away
my bother; i coy -
hush the man, and
play the boy.

i ride along -
for i’ve lost my way;
bide my tongue…
do as you say;

i denied myself
the right to speak:
i waived my voice
to the cackle of
the creek.

the piano plays a song, sublime:
i believe it is a hateful crime -
to remind someone of a battle lost
fighting for a love, that was out of time.

the phone - it calls:
my impulse crawls
back to the moment ‘twas
mighty, and strong;

the tv on the drywall -
knows how to stall -
my mind from its prime;
my body from a shawl --

i feel my palms
so cold - and remote:  
the channel shows
a woman in a fur coat;
she looks so sad -
with all she has;
she quits on love,
doesn’t leave a note.

i turn to music;
tune to the rhymes -
my sorrows of the day;
i buy some time:
debt looms over -
menacing, by the day;
volume seeks heed -
i cannot pay.

done for the day,
i put the phone down;  
the screens go dark -
make me look like a clown.
i cannot keep tabs on
on all my regrets, so -
i force the ******* laptop
to shut down.

shall i scream,
or sing a low hum?
read Poe -
or write a poem?  
the clock ticks away -
my fingers go numb;
my eyes wide open;
my voice -

so dumb.

i can feel the weight,
on my tongue -
of a heart so heavy,
and a mind so young;
i cannot say -
why i went this way;
i do not know, how to
get off the causeway:

on one end, there’re facts;
though verified, and true -
on the other end, lie feelings,
i never really knew -
i had buried so deep,
i failed to see them through;
the facts - do not change,
but the feelings - they do.

i promised not to rely too much
on one way, or the other;
now i’m stuck, biding my time,
reflecting on shallow waters:
i look, long and hard, and see -
the feelings start to resurface;
but in fact, i see -
a herring’s carcass - floating -
so still, and perfect.

a shadow streaks across my face -
i brace myself for, just in case -
i feel it looming - heinously close;
in fact, it’s an eagle;
i step aside - clear the way:  
the eagle tucks its wings
for a nosedive;
it wants the herring -
dead or alive:
it takes what it wants,
leaves nothing behind -
neither facts, nor feelings;
only ripples of lies.

walk me down the alley, will you?
it’s so dark, and terribly true:
the walls close in;
the air cuts thin;
on a skin that’s weary of
a diabolical flu.

i’ll walk behind ya, all the way -
for i have nothing good to say -
of the ones who lurk
in dreary corners -  
where hope turns bleak;
i dare not speak -

for they can sense
my breathless words;
my every move;
even thoughts, unheard;
you must take caution,
stay low, stay far:
they might mistake us
for who we are  

almost there,
just a few more yards…
you may drop me off yonder -
that moonlit graveyard:
will be there, for a while -
don’t wait too long;
the night isn’t over -
things could go wrong.

i look at you -
long and hard;
strike one off
the tally card -
of false promises,
and dubious words;
i peck your bud,
and fly like a bird.

i draw the line,
and watch it fade:
every second
you and i are away -
from each others grips,
coming down the trips -
i wonder if there was
another way.

smoke rings rising
up the clock -
show me the times
i forgot to lock:
my impulse for a high;
i’m not sure why -
i was expecting a key
at the bottom of the rock.

i shudder to heed
the animal i’ve become:
once a wolf untamed;
now a lost puppy,
squealing for his mum.

a saintly pelican, i thought meself -
back in the day,
with a bill so big as
my heart would weigh;  
now, but a vulture -
feeding on the remains
of unfortunate cows:
with a crooked bill, i prey.

a scorpion’s sting
could go in vain
on skin - like a crocodile’s -
that’s proof of pain.  
a chicken on the run? -
or the bloodhound
that caught her?  
nah -
more like a pig for slaughter.

a rattlesnake in hiding
with its venom depleted,
i long to emerge a phoenix:
find my mission, then complete it.
purge meself of the worm:
eat it - like a songbird, mistreated;
anyway -
i should get off my high horse;
the parasite’s more...
deep-seated.

i feign to say
what i cannot share.
bite my tongue
like i do not care.
the demons draw blood,
as i beg for air.
here comes a verse…
i did not prepare.

sullied by half-truths,
the mind lays bare -
to a world of treachery;
governed by distant affairs.
i cannot be a saint,
though i have some
good to spare;  
they fuel my incense, as i -
say my morning prayers.

look around -
they’re everywhere.
the sinners crawl from
the devil’s lair;
they coerce me to follow:
how’s that fair?
**** it -
i’ll end it here.