Hence the sorrow
Where upon it will double tomorrow
If only Time would laugh
Before the scissors of death sharpen their craft

Her clouds form a keep sake of regret
Angles start to dance while family and friends make wagers
And bets

The heart doesn’t open it races with fear
It is not my tragedy – don’t bring your poison here

To take the hand is to pay the price – how much do I owe for the gift of life

The fone of hate
Dials through the hellish
Noose the cord
Brain tumor from wave upon wave
Twisted cell struggle the canyon of diatribe

it doesn’t come fast
rotten honey drips
the ending
the blurry screen
the burden
the seats smell of piss, mediocrity and slow
charcoal grilled death………………..the fire long gone i search the ash for my broken heart.
with dirty fingers i find a bucket of lost time at the bottom of an ash tray.

Oh you persistent angle
You are no hell hound
You are horror in all white

Why insist there is light inside me
I am of the dark, I’ve come to accept – why not you ?

I cannot withstand a direct screening of your face
No capacity
I will shatter like a mirror
Like a glass

Church pews and hymnals
Were a cold hand pointing you out ( an upside down clarion call )
Lifesavers are the Eucharist

The dumb down depictions cover the church walls
stealing your ability to be attractive

This nervous system is fragile
Vintage wiring lost all insulation
Living with a tooth freshly pulled

gnawing ache of desperate heart
the swelling of a needy chest
the pounding
the throb
the throbbing

the relentless tempo of unfulfilled need driving him to
slide like a sneak thief into her
soup kitchen

a tiny bowl reaches out
elbows locked
hands wrapped in gloves of neglect
pouring through his soggy trousers, a puddle of self esteem at his feet

the prude steps up and ladles out the tepid waters
delivering a bit of this and a chunk of that, insulting the mans bowl
the letters floating at the top read “ after thought soup “

the under whelming eucharist is delivered with a battery acid tongue
and the emotional equivalent of handing a starving man a pack of gum

mediocrity dripping down his greying chin
dull spoon stabbing wildly
his shame – this holocaust of love

tears of resignation penetrating the kitchen floor
bread crumbs and control

Its raining sheets of anxiety
Pounding the sails
Puddling under the doors
Creeping ever lower

This tempest tosses ships against the sides of my skull

The oars of medication gently combing the beard of angry Poseidon

My heart
a solitary bird being tossed through pitch black

Every stroke of the typewriter is a blind spin of the compass searching for home