No Ugliness In the Dark

There is no ugliness in the dark, it now soothes my soul.

It is pruned and hidden behind all that I know.

A midnight hour…now, has become as slow and methodical, as a turtle in spring time.

Quiet, watchful and meandering.

Where there had once been discomfort from the levels of kindness…

I offer myself, whatever will be…will be.

Where had once been fear and disenchantment…

an ease.

No more hardship.

I am hidden and appointed…no longer is there someone else’s misery.

Holding Back Tears

She spoke of tears as if, a translucent demon.

As a nightmare that is grappled with over and over again…

until it is finally shed.

Had it not been a means of self-preservation for all of her confined years…

I would have agreed.tear 2

Ironic what we are taught and what we do…

slowly becomes a watercolor mask we cannot take off.

Strange at the Door


Knocking came from the door.

The knocking came from yesterday.

If I dare answer it?

There would have been absolutely no corner, in which to place the baggage.

Damaged goods lay in a pile by a three legged four post bed.

The bed, in turn, covered fictional monsters who insisted on always being fed.

Rapping upon the driftwood door remained persistent.

What if the scrapping of buckled knuckles had been… disappointment?

They were forever…lacking an appointment.

I glanced at the bedside table for possible space.

That had already been stacked full with books of accusations.

And, set atop those stolen words…

a vase filled with finger pointing.

Disquieted, I took a sip off water from a cloudy glass.

The chalice had been a gift from those ‘holier than thou.’

Used to be I slurped the water as though, wine.

As if it were my supper…my last.

Were I to allow a stranger into this safe place?

In my heart of hearts, it would have been only I… becoming two faced.

Having had my entourage of trunks amassed with unease…years before.

I sat down, lit a cigarette, resolving to not answer the door.


Moderate Ignorance


On the stairway to self-preservation.

An allotment of goods.

A brace, some pills…none with thrills.

All rainbow arrays of impediments.

Difficult to imagine a day not perfumed by my self imposed…handicaps.

With a suitcase of vertigo in hand.

I travel the stairs, everyday, often with dismay.

I daydream about what it is I am attempting to avoid.

But that only depresses me.

Provides an income, where I can become further annoyed.

I can hold to self-doubt and pretend it is not the germ ridden handrail…

that it is.

However, my ignorance may kill.

It also allows me to live.imageedit_110_9303605407