Is that what we wake up to every day?
Fast food and gas stations are forever stamped in the corners of my eyes as they are looking through the glass of minimum wage to the red flashing lights of a man hoping to get back to his children safely.
Is life is a pointed dagger then my blade is rusted and dull when I wonder why I even try some days.
Do I dare defend my pride and still demand something more than this? Is this a call for engines in the air or wings made of wax? Death would be more alive than waking up to another day of shampoo commercials and microwave dinners.
You are always whispering in my ear though dear and telling me that you're more than just a particle flown into my imagination from a world so oh very different than ours.
Are your eyes as bright as I imagine? Will the glare from them blind me from the tax collectors whip and will your laughter drown out the screams of onlookers who are throwing peanuts through the bars at my feet?
Will your kiss melt me and cause me to fall into wind like leaves in a storm, a tornado of color and beauty..?
I lay in bed and my eyes close tightly, my breathing slows and thoughts drip into pits men drown themselves in, the murky waters of nihilistic cynicism...
Though my hand will still not be closed around yours when the sun rises, the whisper lets me know you are still awake and searching for me too...
Creeping voices in the night
Shadows lurking out of sight
Haunt me till the morning's light
No sleeping for me tonight
Looking at my bedroom door
My feet barely touch the floor
Something whispers down my core
Something that I can't ignore
Melted candles in my hand
Things I would not understand
My hope slips away like sand
This was not what I had planned
Slowly walking down the stairs
Feel a breeze sweep through my hair
Shadows lurk; in silence stare
Naked thoughts are all I wear
Out of breath I walk outside
Shaking fear that builds inside
No more places left to hide
Guilty thoughts of mine collide
Drenched in coward's blood and fear
I lost those who I held dear
It's all blurred, nothing is clear
Shadows from my past appear
As the silence speaks to me
Gets too loud it deafens me
My past will not leave me be
Pain and torment I foresee
Dazed and drawn by these lost souls
Broken thoughts I can't control
Ghosts slip through this gaping hole
Darkness has taken its toll
From the darkness dreams come out
Nightmares flailing all about
Closing in, I hear them shout
It's the end, I have no doubt
"What the hell is it you want?"
They retreat and me they taunt
One emerges, tall and gaunt
"Your life we will no more haunt."
"You have paid for your wrongdoing,"
He tells me, his voice booming
"This is now your redeeming
You are free." he says smiling
I look at the rising sun
I no longer have to run
My sentence is served and done
The ghosts have finally gone.
We hung upside down from bars
worn with age and regret,
yet we regretted nothing
foolhardy souls intertwined,
spirited from the mere thoughts
that pooled in inky wisps
threatening to bite off
more than the world had
offered our omnivorous gullets
And so, in the stillness
of lethargic afternoon sun,
breaths held in anticipation
of the distant chiming bells
mocking our captivity,
we breathed our last
we breathed at last
Why is the speckled lark oblivious to the fading warmth
of a dying sun that taints the world with feeble light
illuminating the motionless face of a stone mountain dwelling?
Does it cease the rhythmic flutter of wings all aglow
fashioned like countless generations before and those yet to come?
When shadows fall and gradually disappear
into obscure crevices of clearings in woods never tread upon
it would seem that darkness exposes
reflects the barren souls living, existing,
and yet almost incapable of being.
So much of everything is composed of nothing
mere empty space yearning to pull off the illusion of reality-
until a desire to delve deeper
to push through quanta of energy
and minuscule atoms screaming with silent fury
in psychologists and philosophers
eager to present another iota of wisdom obtained
in a shivering orphan living day to day
with an unparalleled yearning for better tomorrows
in a lark not oblivious to the fading warmth of a dying sun
but striving with all the forces inside impelling it
to live in anticipation of a phoenix orb of light
to exist amidst this terrible chaotic world
gradually growing resplendent
cyclical as a flame
As if cradled by a soft psithurism
then abruptly tossed into oblivion,
familiar leaves are cast from the oak -
frail corpses settling into the earth,
spirits ascending into the mist
Beyond the lonely trees
shrinking with the setting sun,
the little red farmhouse awaits
deserted now, the holding place
for breaths and sorrows
And still I can hear the ringing voices
from within these walls, echoing-
dissatisfied ghosts from my past,
desperate to overturn this unhappy fate
yet solemnly chasing the brontide
gracing me with neither word
nor final glance
This sweetest past-time
eludes you now, yet still
echoes your name,
your legacy carved
on the face of these
Tiny pseudo crystals
held at arm's length
to catch the countenance
of a fractured sun
albeit exuding brilliance
These loveless trails
hold such heavy hearts
withdrawn in their
reaching their slender
to faintly touch
still on this journey
that has surpassed you