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.

ready or not,
here i come.
count your blessings,
find the sum -
of all the tears
that’re due to flow
from a corner of your heart
you didn’t even know
existed before;
now open the door;
embrace your mortality -
let it purge your core
of all the notions
that vexed your spirit, and,
twisted your mind, well -
not anymore.

i’ve come to show you
the only way out;  
‘take it or leave it’ -
i’m leaving with you,
or without.
have you no clue  
how profound the disease is? -
it’ll take a while
to pick up the broken pieces.

sleep shall be but a
fleeting dream.
oh yes,
it’s a wicked scheme.
i’ve come to search your soul
like a sleuth;  

i’m your fateful reckoning -
your ******* moment of truth.

a thousand miseries,
and countless trials.
****** footprints tracking bygone miles.
for all the times you traded a smile;
it’ll all be worth it,
after a while.  

spend some time with the guy in the mirror
you both have come a long way together
sure, he’s got a different hairstyle;
give it time - it grows on you,
after a while.

find a way to live through the pain -
like you’re on a burning train,
headed for The Elysian Fields,
where psalms of valor forever reign.  

soon, you’ll be on the other side:
grateful for the moment you died,
so you could feast with the Gods,
if only for a while -
then back to grind,
after a while.