You are exhausting---

The constant hammer
that falls upon my head;
driving me to fulfill a goal,
making me always think,
with ideas that keep me fed.

Years before---

I was feral as a man
wild of tooth and tongue.
Uncaring in my approach
both aimless and blameless,
from the badge of being young.

Still---

Out of the faceless crowd
I chose an expression,
imprinted now, only you would do.
To save me from my sickness,
and secret life that only you knew.

That stubborness---

I can not quit because of it
and so I reach to climb;
through thorn and thistle,
moving higher, higher still,
until I reach that azure sky.

However---

Once I'm staring at it
I feel it's just not true.
Thinking ******* the challenge
I dig up through cloud and heaven,
and continue on my way...

Because you taught me to.

Awaken
then recede
ebb and flow
so much has been lost
when memory has faded,
and has been left to yellow in the sun.

Without notice,
over there---
sits a solitary person,
flesh and blood cage
a defective cup that no longer holds
who has become another empty page.

A collection of white now exists
in a nonsense world, home to Alice
unkempt books with capsized spirit
and tattered page and spine;
where vacant stations play
only garbled static on the radio.

Lucidity has been banished
to a place where names and noodles
can no longer stick to the wall.
food can no longer nourish or satisfy
and add appetite to comprehension.

Where words once stood in stone
now a cemetery grows its garden,
and gray vines hang low
ensnaring all passing travelers
waiting to mark them in their place.

With closed iron gates
there can be no welcome neighbor
no way to tell friend from foe,
as grown children are orphaned of thoughts,
and former feelings are lost to the hourglass,
forever sand-filled, cracked and broken.

Dreamer do not worry
I am outside your door
keep yourself safe in darkness
until I come,
until I knock,
until I breach the doorway.

Cold touch, intrusive
the unforgiving nature
of human monsters
with appointment
a need born from convenience
numb from disconnection.

They deny you exist
yet I see you
through a glass darkly
still angelic in your design
This is not my choice
It is theirs.
Your body immaterial
It is theirs that matters.

Dissemble all
until only the soul remains
upset the altar
a child no more
puddled in yourself.

Take my hand,
You miracle
Darling spirit
I will return you home
let us journey to a sacred place.

Do not look back
as mother moves down the hall
where smiles are like cardboard
You, at such an age
have accomplished so much already
you have outgrown them all
as ignorance stays the same
and words echo against the wall---
Please come back again.

When it settles
it clings to my lungs
and I breathe in,
until it becomes me.

Whether ash or rust I can not say
but it binds to me either way.
What I am becoming
from setting sun to dawning day,
be it man of dust or man of clay;
I do not know
I can not say.

Perhaps----
mercy forfend,
the breeze will carry me away.
Cast down the street in piles and droves
spread out to where other humans stay,
forgotten like scattered salt,
or neglected ashtray.

Flakes of prayers
left to swirl about,
and gather in the storm,
or lay sleeping in the gutter.

Perhaps---
There might be a day
in my sojourn,
where it shall be
my humble priviledge,
to renew the ground where youth can play.

But with arid lungs,
without mouth and tongue
I do not know
and I can not say.

Restless are the eyes that follow
searching out a purpose,
some nameless claim,
so warm, tepid,
and full of oceanic wonder;
those following two---
those damp spheres of shade.

Regrettably, a thought arrives---
I did not request your name,
lovely living statue,
found of selective voice.

Mark my posture
as a ship listing on the waves,
turn back to port,
turn back to safety,
return to the familiar
these things I know.

Pulse cease,
disquiet chamber
place hold and become stagnant,
meaning and reason please return;
human folly was born of myself,
and remains nameless,
such as my captive audience.

Such bindings of flesh and form,
build me to agony,
and remain a prisoner of chemistry
this creature, this mystery,
this name---
was never offered to me in kind.

I suppose---
there are things best kept hidden,
not spoken loud
as the heart manages its uttering
I walk down the hallway,
perceiving your gaze at journey's end.

Slowly still,
my footsteps fall in procession
and knowing not at all,
when the day concludes
such thinking is above my own
and I am left to wonder
if such a goddess was ever meant
to have earthly title.