You reach for the hand of God.
Empty as the first time you stretched it out.

My gift to you is the emptiness that should
take hold and make you question.

I am the fog.

Painful are the needles of the night's darkness,
but if you can't see them will it matter?

Turn back around and upside down.
Wondering how you have gotten so lost.

I am the fog.

Phantom whispers of the past
are the only company you keep.

Don't speak aloud to them or
else the ghosts will think you are crazy.

I am the fog.

Take tiny steps hoping to find
some sort of edge for guidance.

After a while the steps turn
to ever growing strides.

I am the fog.

Don't stop running you say aloud.

That's when the silence finally grips you.

I am the fog.

Written in an unknown script
you understand it was done in blood.

Bleeding onto the page a sacrifice is made
in secret trust.

Begone with the notions that everything
was normal once that first word or picture
was viewed with your eyes.

Stripped bare like the knife that extracted
the first ink to be born on the page.
Severed lust.

The inscription now hung so high
in your mind of disillusion.

The strange fingers that you wondered
about grasping the blade to write are now
your own as you add your own ink
to this book of forgotten impulses.

When there was a breath in the body
A want to stand up and yell to the world.

Choices left never chosen.
They become ancient regrets.

Run them from your mind so they will
Only come out at the wrong time.

Still, yell it at the world when no one is listening,
but maybe for a fleeting chance

You. yourself. finally,
Listened.

Come
Around the bend.
Pull back and release.

I lost control
The road doesn't know my
Path just as much as I didn't care.

Why should I open my eyes.
They were never shut
In the first place?

This time.
This time.
There won't be a next time.
It has to be this time.

Giving up
Giving in
What does it matter
How you say it?

Turn
Around away from the bend.
Hold on don't let go
Just yet.

In a box
Under a bed
Within a room
Down the hall
Upstairs
In a house (that was left abandoned years ago, weathered and worn)
On a cul-de-sac
Off of a forgotten road
Near an unknown town
With just one bar (Where I sit)
In a depressed state

There's a letter addressed to you stamped under several more letters
In a box.

What you want is the same as I.

Imagine walking down the street.

You give my hand a small squeeze
just to let me know you are holding
My hand.

I squeeze back
just to let you know I'm holding
Yours.

I don't let go, but stop walking
so I can pull
make you spin like a piroutte
and then pull you close to me.

I kiss you and as I pull back
to let you know
You kiss me back harder.

open you eyes
OPEN
YOUR
EYES
Can't breathe. It's fine. It's not a right. It's a privilege.
We fall down.
WE
ALL
FALL
Don't want to feel. Anything. Anymore.
Don't say that. Don't mean that. Believe that.
open your eyes.
do not fall.
stop. breathe. feel.
It starts again. This time. I will look/listen/breathe/feel
It's not what I need to do be alive.
It's what I want.