Don’t Tell Me That.

Looking about this place I dwell,

unsure if I want to face this Hell,

there’s so little here to comfort me,

so many years of horrid memories,

emptiness fills the hollowed space,

thoughtfulness lives some other place,

far from me and mine out there,

they tell me it truly exists somewhere,

they say it gets better the harder you try,

but I can’t believe such an obvious lie,

it seems the constant noise is killing me,

frustration has replaced any simplicity,

the corners have started to fold inward,

on a picture of all my heart has endured,

the faces in the photo have disappeared,

the colors are faded and inevitably smeared,

likened to my own reflection,

without strength and no direction,

I often hope that I am the crazy one,

who should be put away in locked asylum,

that would explain so much of my pain,

I could finally embrace all that’s insane,

they say when someone is that far gone,

there’s no telling them when they are wrong,

“crazy people don’t consider being mad…”

said the most discouraging shrink I ever had.

 

 

Broken Be Our Bread.

I’m standing in,
the fading rays,
of your shine,
and, as it fades,
away from me,
into a shade,
of washed out gray,
muted memories,
of brighter days,
a better time,
I can’t rewind,
stuck on auto-play,
the things we said,
promises made,
yours and mine,
fear and dread,

push back instead,
relations forbade,
teardrops cried,
both misty-eyed,
fast-forward to today,
it’s enough, instead,
buck the brick blockade,
as hard as I can bang
with my own head,
cracked opening,
brightest of red,
the blood we bled,
so many times,
yours and mine,
broken be our bread.

Broken Be Our Bread.

I’m standing in,
the fading rays,
of your shine,
and, as it fades,
away from me,
into a shade,
dulled out gray,
muted memories,
of brighter days,
a better time,
I can’t rewind,
stuck on auto-play,
the things we said,
promises made,
yours and mine,
fear and dread,

push back instead,
relations forbade,
teardrops cried,
both misty-eyed,
fast-forward to today,
it’s enough, instead,
buck the brick blockade,
as hard as I can bang
with my own head,
cracked opening,
brightest of red,
the blood we bled,
so many times,
yours and mine,
broken be our bread.