I creep quietly
step by painful step
up
past the tired paintings of you
through memories of false days
over the corpse of our joy
and beyond

_________________________________________

Darkness and light
empty and whole
I dwell in between days
snared by my weakness
twisting in the maze that is ego
Indexing the shadows

_________________________________________

The wind speaks to me
carrying the dust of
ages long past
it echoes within me
in a voice that cries
repetition and doom
when will we learn

_________________________________________

She doesn’t like poetry
and yet
she finds beauty in stone
feels and freely gives love
Alice and 11 dreams
in the looking glass
She is poetry

_________________________________________

The wilted rose
cannot stand her own petals
imperfections must be removed
until there are none
and only the thorns remain
a prickly twig

_________________________________________

She dances in the stars
all love and forgiveness
dreaming of a tomorrow
without worry or blemish
she would carry the world
if it let her

_________________________________________

The lady of Scarlet touches me
in the place I don’t want to admit exists
the cesspool of unending sadness
in which my soul seeks to escape

_________________________________________

Days like these I twist the dagger
and wonder why I feel at all
I stand alone and face derision
a sadness you will never own
the unknown