He is scraggled,
bathed only by the suns light during the hours of his slumber on Miami dewed, morn soil.
He sleeps off the night before, though he is not reminicent of it in his dreams,
as his slumber is no longer dreamt, but devoured by the nightmare of life,
and nights and days have begun to slur into one another
untill one becomes another,
and vice versa.
The empty bottle in the bag was dumped miles ago
on the side of a road no longer remembered,
and the facade of the beggar was dropped long ago,
as the face of hope was rendered.
The known knowledge of his future demise does not scare him,
as the only friend that brings him peace is the one that will destroy him.
But he is alright,
as the short lived calm of his decent into the burbon torrent
is his way of riding his nightmares,
and as he drinks his way away tonight, honey,
he knows,
this truely is all there is.

a.r.

Don't you love the rain?
Reminicent of a place,
That could be heaven.
And you find comfort in that,
Now that you have escaped hell.

The scraggley mountains in the distance
look like soft sleeping boddies
made round and soft
covered and swaddled
in an icy blanket of aproaching fog.

An emerald and ruby star hangs in the distance
reminicent of some **** covered nativity scene
with mules kicking
and a woman screaming
and piles of hay rotting into the shape of beds
and a fool man welcoming an immaculate carpenter
and a woman smug in deciet
as she pushes out into a pile of muddy grain
and rat ****.

A sheet of rain falls sidesways in the distance
storm front drawing a visible line in the sky
the rain sounds like a waterfall
eating away at the concrete slowly over time
with icy crystal gums
as soft and deadly
as a sleeping bear
or a politicians words.

These things form the viege memories of a season.
Along with wood stoves,
the sticky smell of pitch,
hearty soup,
old musty books,
warm muddy boots,
and hot strong drinks.
Warming pioson to the core.
Winter sickness in the town where rain makes a grey christmas.
Every.
*******.
Year.

the light flickers

the candle plays tricks for me

a warm ambient glow,

its life, simply there for my entrancement.

if only you were the flame of this candle.

then I could watch you dance and play sensously

instead of watching shadows

make shapes reminicent of you,

flicker on the wall,

wishing you close,

feeling your warmth.

A chasm'd lit spark in the sky
Once was the love
That brought together
you, and I

A solemn howl of natures fury
Once foreshadowed the love
That would escape
you, and I

A slight warmth of skin
Felt on my flesh
Reminicent of the days
Well kept, and spent

A breeze dancing blissfully
Once ignored by the rest
Now is all my heart feels
Tucked beneath my breast

Surrounded by people yet all alone
Trapped within this solitary zone
A world where chaos and hate overtake
Every bit of happiness that may try to escape
Laughter and smiles never seem to last
Because we all act like we want to be haunted by memories of our past, than blame each other for the reasons we think we always finish last, maybe we should try and have some class, stop living in these houses built upon glass.
Running, running searching for distance between ourselves and our own ******* resistance, look around at where we are, what the **** is this?
Unless you're the 1 ain't nowhere to go
These days don't reflect life, what is right, everyone is self absorb they don't see the loss of the fight, too many of us just conform, walk like zombies lost in the dead of night, but all heard the warning…..
That was boring, then just go along the next morning, your lives should be the ones in mourning, can't be the ones the chose their way out rather than go on enduring.
I watch the news, and just think **** this place, **** this space, **** all that was built, in minutes it's been brought down to waste, if I hear one more ******* person say this is the greatest….. no the fuckit's not, what plant are they on, they claim free, none of us are free, just blind because no one wants to open their ****** eyes and see.
Screaming for help, does anyone hear
Demons, and  death coming next, who's gonna be blessed, failure and fighting everyone self obsessed.
Echoes, and lost minds, tormenting all day long, **** reality go back to sniffin lines, and see the history of dads that never were in sons over and over remind,
They breakin down woman who were once strong, how many generations was it gonna take for christ sake, now everybody wants to ask well how long, how long, how long, go **** yourselves all 435 actin like you didnt know **** was wrong.
What serenity anyway
Is it a feeling, state of mind, or just words people say, in the midst of neverendin dismay.
Deep rooted evil no time for  soul mates
Wondering why joy is always a day late
Suicide is livin watchin endurin, not dyin, be a miracle when leaders start tryin.
Happiness, the tears cried, fed with every lie.
Unable to distinguish what's real from what's fiction
Hope is an illusion, an optimist's prediction
What will it take to get right
The devil comes on lonely nights
Angels battle but they lose there stand
Reminicent of their holy land
Lost in ours head we hear their harmonious song
A tranquil state  now finding ourselves
Dealing with the hand which we were dealt
Good vs evil, what does it really mean
Are we ***** when we appear to be clean
Life is an illusion a constant mind trick to me, what is it that you see?
Who knows what fate will be
Heaven and hell are both fair game
Will we succumb to peace or fall down in shame
Surrounded by people yet all alone
Trapped within this solitary zone.