116

My father had a brittle heart

that could not stand the strain

of walking through 

his life with someone

only to 

begin again

and so he built up hedges

all around his paths

short

at first

but always growing

thicker 

than the last

and then the hedges 

turned to 

walls

and walls to 

corridors

and now my father

walks his garden

alone 

forevermore. 

117

My heart is

ticking

softly

alone inside

ensconced

and never ceases

flickering

never truly stops

but when I see 

an enemy 

Or one whom I disdain

perhaps it’s better

If my heart 

never beat again.

118

I cannot grasp of what I think
or feel
or what I mean
I only talk in riddles
can only act in dreams
a shattered mirror
limits me to sidelong
views at best
and though I long for
further glances
longing’s all I get.
I cannot hold a moment
without it burning hot
and all I hear when
listening
is what the truth is not
no traces left to follow
the paths are all but lost
and so I sit with shards of memories
smoking in the frost

119

The railing stops 

before a chasm

deeper than all other points

And once again I come

to lean and stare below

at glinting coins

Tossed before the yawning 

cliffs for luck or wish for

penitence 

I see the god

within the chasm

empty of the sentiments

affixed to him

by lesser minds

grappling with the great abyss

and grip the railing

tightly as the

air begins to mist

and covers over

everything

with long lost wisdoms kiss.

Current

The lights stay on, they always are, no current breaks, no shades to draw,
just running, running, 1's and 0's,
visions, villains, ghosts and heroes,
Information banks and swirls,
filling corners of the world,
With options, possibles, and maybe's,
the information highway is lost in me,
I scramble, grasp and flit about,
Sorting all the stories out,
Gasping, groaning, in a frenzy,
Frothing, foaming, too fast to see,
The lines are drawn, the plots unfold, there's life, you see,
living, breathing, inside me.

The Flick, The Drop, The Squeeze

He's here again, I feel the breeze,as my heart's engulfed with his disease.

The tendrils loop, they weave and tighten, I am caught.

Now comes the squeeze...bastard embrace, bile rising, I have no space. I'm lifted up, the light flickers and dies, and I'm replaced with truth.

I see my fate with cold resolve, all blackness, no blue,
And now I see paths to end it too.
A flick, a drop, a squeeze will do, If only I will see it through.

We dance and sway, one as one, in and out, we move with ease.
But always still....I ponder the flick, the drop, the squeeze.

The fire is low, all is ash, and all could end within a flash.
But he grows tired, and down I slide,
his sneering all that's left to reside,
Inside my mind, my heart, my being.

I push up, and walk for air, holding railing for support,
Collapsing soon, my walk is short,
For ever whispering on the breeze:
The flick, the drop, the squeeze.