Pain…

…condensed in the snow…as dark and sorrowful as the northern wind will blow…

…only the truth of distrust lies in the shadows…distant as a mother’s touch…

…pain knows I am a fool…no one understands this…better than I do…

…this discomfort…the blink of an icy pond…no longer lingered upon…

…agony taunts me…reminds me of who I used to be…

…pain is a constantly unraveling thread to the tapestry of my soul…

The Cast of Pain

the Mills, Franklin NH

Don’t want to walk through the pain.

But the want…

and

the need…

are not the same.

There is no religion to the agony.

There is no need for the ache’s shame.

Suppose…

only the want remains.

Only remains a cast of shadow in the day.

The day I stop…

walking through the pain.

Pine and Oak

I look and lock down these stairs to the catacombs.

I understand as a stumble, there will never be freedom.

The intertwined pine and oak…lamented before me alludes to a place ‘never to be.’

Hatred and swinging leather belts.

Love mixed with skin pelts.

I write shortly of incidents others have felt.

Thus, I donate my life to disrepair.

To tiled and titled adults without a care.

Tell me now,

how polyester made life light?

Why the campfire of want…became hell?

Had I Known

Had I known this would have been our last embrace.
Would I have given more than I take.
I summon up that specter steeple.
As well as, that rare smile that graced your face.
Even now,
I ask the hereafter, with quiet reservation,
who does not falter?

Ominous choices of two forks in the road.
‘No, you did all you could.
How were you to know.
She always likened herself to beauty being bold.’

Those were the days of romantic sobriety.
Young love in tarnished hands.
A reckoning of waters,
so still they moved.
I moved.
You moved.

I am perpetually swayed back to that secular summer place…
with the worshipers in the sun’s face.
The only thing I knew to do was offer a way to leave.
Proposing a week’s reprieve.

Seven days.
It moved me.
It moved you.
And,
at the time,

that was the best that we could do.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Mum

Hurt has turned ghosts to gold

Newborns into antiquated entities

I come and go from the waters, time and time again

Yet, I cannot walk on

Questions to my state of mind

Part and particle of the disease…not the cure