Blanket pulled over my chest
Close my eyes
Take a breath
Time to get some rest
 
But there's you in my illusions
You, swirling through sleep deprived hallucinations
You, entwined in the depth of these synapses
Firing the fantasies I've played over in my mind
Floating up, to the forefront of this frontal lobe
 
One by one in escalation
Thoughts circulate in motion  
Held captive by imaginary lines
Too tired to spring for the refuge of any resistance I could aquire
 
Wet blanket drapes my thighs 
As the moisture fills my eyes
Too tired not to spend
The last ounce of energy left

Sunset of a Soul

Sunday morning standing under the steeple

Ritualistic people repeating prayers like numbers

Echolalia of words in exchange for life everlasting

Repetition befuddles the meaning

Do we say it from the soul, or is it just mimicry  

You break the string and your beads scatter

You wonder how much does it really matter

I just stare at you

It's not my place to disguise the truth

I didn't come here to ruin you

I stand in silence waiting for your next move

Sunset of a soul 

Eighteen degrees below the horizon

Of what you're not to do

Sunset of a soul

The thread of truth breaking

Sin so pleasing, on the way down 

The aftermath, the dusty path 

The chagrin of where you've been  

Pick yourself up, wash yourself off

Find the beads you didn't need

String them together with the strands pulled from her hair 

Beg for absolution with any breath you have left 

The Girl Holding Gin

I sip her gin
I shyly grin
We both know 
The only thing more bitter than life right now 
is this tonic
Maybe that's why 
I only drink it when I'm with her

She likes my taste in music
And she don't mind my taste in men 
So we came to pass the time away 
Like we can't spend it
 
Here I am holding time with
The girl holding gin with a grin

I call her second best
when she's standing next to me
but we both know that's a lie
cause I see her as better in my eyes

She feels blown like the glass she's clinching her hand
and the gin it slowly lowers like the sand 
in the lowball of her time 
A lemon, the only remnant left
She looks me in the eye as she squeezes  

The girl holding gin with a grin 

She'll hold her head up, when she's walking on the nails
The dark drills her body, still she doesn't let it through
The pictures all look grim, so she looks the other way
Her numbers keep increasing but she won't be weighed down

We joke like we're from another world, just transcending through 
We smile at the men cause it feels like something new
We'll order another round, so we won't feel as blue 
We'll save truth for another time 

Here I am holding time with
The girl holding a gin with a grin

 

Crimson Sky Morning

Crimson sky morning 
Comes with no warning, they say
Now there's a sailor in mourning
In a sea of her illusions
Lost in the waves of her hair
As far as he'll stretch he'll never touch it
As deep as he'll sink he'll never sort it out
He'll hallow his desperation out with his stick
A clout to maim his shame
 
Crimson sky morning 
Like painted bleeding hearts upon the sky
A canvas stretched out
to hold the portrait of the words we cannot say 
Feelings displayed 
For a world that couldn't understand
A sun that won't stop rising, above
A human condition that only dies in the end
It's just the truths that we won't own

A mindset we've enslaved

Lessons from a dead man

Lessons from a dead man
his silence speaks to me
i couldn't have learned more from the living
his absence of soul makes mine half as whole
 
Here you are their last words
Like a heroine in some a victorian novel
Some martyr for a cause you cannot shake
In disbelief you file your thoughts to some unsought place 
and pack their things away 
 
Ands it's dim in the dying
Every word needs its note to pair
A final poetry
Just casual conversation
Soon you'll be gone 
The turn doesn’t take very long
 
you're the last voice they hear
you're the last touch they feel
and your mind drifts to the body of someone
you're told you can't heal
A coping mechanism
so nothing is ever real someone
you're told you can't heal
A coping mechanism
so nothing is ever real