Never was so lonely as the night
with all it's dreams of yesterday
encapsulated within a moments hesitation
and then tomorrow dawns
a new year
to find the screaming body
dragged from the final breath of the previous chapter
and into darkness.
clouds fill the sky
dark and gray
with flurries of snow
and worries of man
that fall and lie
deep upon the fields of thought
until the vista is such
that even memory can not recognize it's twisted features
a thing of beauty?
a white demon?
who knows what others see
behind the windows of their souls
who hears their silent screams
and runs protective to cradle them within awaking dreams
of how it should have been
it could have been
if only the dice had fallen even
how can life be decided by the flick of a wrist?
And what of chapters new?
of fields yet untrodden
and future speak
of what you seek
alone but not so sure
filled with doubts
of how much longer can the fear of past remain
before it bites upon the very substance of the soul inside
and leaves the dreamer
spineless
and crippled
with no place left to wander
and no mind left to wonder
just dribbled gibberish
of take him off to treatment?
And each heartbeat is differant now
each blink of the eye see's a differant dream
and no seasons exist
no maps remain
the world is differant
a new horizon hovvers
virgin world
of o so scarey
and who will write the chapters
if the spirit breaks?
And within each moment is a lifetime
a million plans
a billion schemes
and each is shattered like the waking dream
on frosty mornings
where the cold drags you screaming
before your memory grasps the purpose of it's nocturnal quest.
Are tears so personal that others can not share the salt of wounds
without the being of the purpose
and if they can then how is there injustice while we speak of
compassion
or is the only passion
the heavey breathing fucking of an animal
disguised as man
and lonely as the night
vacant and apart
except in electric moments
of need.
What is a tear anyway?
And what purpose is in pain
that we can't feel the thoughts of others in our microbiotic
ever healthy
take a pill of wealth and beauty
cut price in a sale
cuz everything
is yours
if the price is right
consumer
vaccumer
of suck the whole world dry
and shaft it if it's sleeping
just because your father said you had to
just cuz grandma wants the best for you
Footstep or thought?
the commencment of action
no distraction
a new chapter
and where is it?
who knows
the floating impulse of
roll the dice
pray for nice
but take a frozen road
if the gods wish
and pray that this time
like other times
you live to rue the day
you ever went away
instead of dying like all the others did
cuz the fuckers said defeat was not acceptable
and walk on
walk on
and journey to the place of sin
so once again you might begin
in twisted tombs of
what the fuck is happening?
what destination on the ticket?
whatever place seems right
when stolen credit cards are traded
for another place
another face
and who will you be next
the boy died first
and then the artist
then the con
and then...
always dying
never living
chapter after chapter
and now the poets dead
not one more word will fall
like autumn leaves
and as the spring turns
the rotting decay
of a forgotten dream
will fade from memory
to be replaced
by yesterday
before the ghost came...
