You lay awake at night
Trying to picture your life
The way it was
Supposed to be
Image is still not clear
The sound of broken promises
Is all you can hear
You lay awake at night
Trying to picture your life
The way it was
Supposed to be
Image is still not clear
The sound of broken promises
Is all you can hear
I am not
An old school plagiarist
Stealing all that I write
From this life
Obvious to those
Cursed with sight
Funny how I still
Know nothing despite
The writings on the wall
And the many scribbles
In the stalls
Bumping into other thieves
Busy at their theft
Rolling up their sleeves
All of us trying to take a bow
For something we were presented
Here I sit staring down
At my clinched fist
Such force in the squeeze
Veins protruding on my wrist
To be noticed they do insist
Fist cradled by my other hand
I watch as it slowly unfolds
Revealing nothing
As air rushes through my chest
I am filled with anguish
Formed inside breath
With varying degrees of thought
Left behind long after death
Far exceeding intention
Blows like the breeze
Through blades of grass
Each blade hit bends backward
And effects another
Until an entire field has been rustled
Which takes back its shape
After it has been passed
But can never be exactly the same
Some carry seeds
Spreading in a random array
Blowing them over some blades
And falling amongst others
The transcending scent of you
Lingers in my psyche
Like ashes floating in the air
Created by the uncontainable brush fire
Sweeping through my everything
Sparked by your every word
And even just the mere existence of you
I hold on to my very sanity
As you disappear
But I remain here
Rising off the backs
Of moments passed
Inflating the present
Beyond its own capabilities
Blinded to that fact
It zero’s in on its fresh target
With unbridled determination
Overstating the importance and value
Of the pedestal it has chosen
To perch itself upon
Long after this battle is done
And it has stepped down
To hide its face
What is hidden
What do I seek
What are the words
I dare not speak
Lurking in the shadows
These thoughts they creep
To fully explore them
They beg but still not a peep
Refusing to acknowledge they exist
Feels like the best way
To deal with this
Hi I am lost again
I know this fatigues you
My closest and oldest friend
Having to read this head line
Forever on my front page
That I sometimes try to dress up
As something better than the constant Black and grey
Unfortunately the best I can do
Are very weak shades of sage
Even sad dark poetry
Illuminates the paths of life
For those lining up
For the next journey
As well as those
Merely wishing to spectate
I must have talking Poetry in my dreams! I woke up with this in my head!
Staring at my hands
As the lines are growing deeper
Thoughts with no direction
Have no end
Lack of focus
As a hollowing feeling grows
Memories of what has been
Are now just poorly backlit images