Woke up to the twilight morn
With an aching head and an aching heart
Hands touch the sheet of my bed
To shield myself away from both the cold and the loss warmth

The alarm clock started to ring, to my funny luck
Given with the choice to leave it on or turn it off
It was always the same thing that ****** me
Left with the choices that I never want to hear, do, or see

But clearly I am always the loser at this game called love
As every turn every choice is wrong when push comes to shove
It always leads back to why I did this and why not do that
Forever making decisions that will never be enough

And so go back to the culprit that started this montage
Still ringing still ticking haunting me every second
Likening itself to my every love that went gone
To stop is to accept that I have succumbed to my fate
To let it ring is to endure for an eternity.
All I can think of now,
"Why did I buy that stupid clock."

The moon rose,
    and collected
    like dust
    on the back of his
                                    neck.

Living a life in the shadows
feeling all the pain of everyone
every single day
people ask how do you know so
my answer is I am a Shadow
a man of the night
who plays with all his might
A man that plays for keeps
and lets the world see
in time that man behind the mask
and the one that completes every task
behind the scenes
and no one knows he means
well here is the answer
I do it for what is mine
those people that I'll risk all the time
those that I'll give my Life
I pray that one day everyone will understand
and be able to have someone to take them by the hand
and lead the way to that light at the end of the tunnel
and if they ain't got one I'll be there for ya'll
you just got to call

she's standing on a platform
as the train chugs on a pebbled railroad
away to April harvests
and scattered hay bales
where the sun dips low
over rolling hills
and the wind whistles
to scarecrows in the golden wheat fields

he sits by a window framing
the dancing scenery
the evening is orange
and it falls in studious rectangles
across the compartment floor
he sleeps,
and the city steals away from him

by the time he gets off that train
he will have replaced his baseball hat
with a straw one
and her pack of pink bubblegum
will have fallen onto the tracks
when he stumbles on the platform

                                                       ­                      they will grow apart
                                                           ­                  she'll write to him
                                                             ­                he won't write back
                                                                ­             and they'll let it be

Passed  the  lake  last  evening.
It  looked  dark,dank  and  threatening.
In  the  fast  fading  light.
The  moody  mountains  stood  tall.
With  thick  mist  swirling  across.
In  ghostly  fashion.
A  complete  contrast  to  the  summer  view.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

.

Run away, child,
Don't let me in,
I'm a demon,
I'm a devil,
I'll teach you how to sin.

Run away, little son,
Don't look into my eyes,
They are black-blue, they are deadly,
And full of dangerous lies.

Run away, little daughter,
Before your mind I will slaughter,
My existence knows no love,
I was expelled from above.

You can never run away,
Your mind is my slave,
I will haunt you until you die,
Never to leave your side.

Run away, child.
While you're still alive.