Springs Night Air Thoughts (day 295)

A lonely walking along the springs night air
Has a traveler thinking about matters to beware
If ever there was a time for spewing melancholy
The drip drip drip of the morning dew would induce
Such a state of ephemeral excitement ensues
Leaving the steps slightly quicker
In a race against time to return home
Gather the tidbits of nonchalantly whimsical
Ideas that flow rather seamlessly forth
Did we exude the true meaning of all of our thoughts?

Empty Bottles (day 292)

I have spent the day in a bucket of sorrow
Milking my wounds with spikes in the head
Perhaps the longer I look at my reflection in the mirror
The smaller the glare will be
Would it make sense if I chopped a little off the top?
Then I’d let the steaks burn just a little longer
To sear away the pain left lingering
Like the smell of clothes after a night out
Drops of laughter echo through the closed eyes
Into the open palms of wrinkled skin
Weathered like the sin I ate in my sleep
Like the sin I slept on in the night
When I crashed down, reminiscent of childhood
Riding fast along the single-track trails
Head first over the handlebars into the overgrown grass
Secret steps I’ve tripped over ever time
Empty bottles left behind the bed

Eyes (day 291)

The eyes of the tired
Close at all hours
The eyes of the tired
Will miss a few verses
The eyes of the tired
Have journeyed through the night
The eyes of the tired
Weren’t idle last night

The eyes of the tired
Say things words cannot portray
The eyes of the tired
Work overtime, on the weekends
The eyes of the tired
Haven’t called their grandmothers
The eyes of the tired
Rest a while with me

Uneven Sleep (day 285)

I had an uneven sleep
Like the homeless on the cement
Dying for the months rent
Listlessly wandering into another step
For what, I fear the answer
I fear the melancholy it invites
I fear the destruction it involves
Without a comfortable cloth to my name
How lame it must seem
To the truly advanced souls of this land
Where once was a stone
Now creeps up some glass
Greenery once ran rampant throughout
But now is delicately placed high above
In secret places only the few birds know about
But then, where have our secrets come from?
Whither have they gone?

Skin So Bare (day 284)

Dueling pianos penetrate my skin
Forthcoming evening seeps within
Dangerous thoughts roam through my brain
And the night begins thus

Train rolls rapidly on
Jigging my jaw to an unwritten song
I have no fear, says I
I have no pain today

And the lonesome whistle blows off in the distance
I, left standing there in the cold
Watch as my breath floats around the glowing light
In utter silence, miles from anyone or anything

Flash back to a grand romance
Black lace and skin so bare
Knee bones and muted breath
Swayed by the motion of the long locks of hair

I remember now
I remember the long nights I’d speak out
Wondering what lessons I’ve learned
Never understanding the answers I’ve made possible

I’ve never been able to understand
Why searching and searching holds my name
Why memories will always remain
Until the last pair of leggings are just remains

Crickets (day 282)

Did the cool wind die
That old summers night
As the crickets croaked
And the bugs bit

We sang for a while
Like we were living in a space
Where we didn’t care
For the silence around

In truth, it made it hurt more
It made the sadness gather storm
It made the songs all have meanings
It made the end loom in the twilight hours

But it was all for the better
I realize that now
I have accepted that fact
Like so many others since

Foiled (day 277)

Without the holy faces
Without the matriarchs
Hovering closely
Breathing with whistled breath
Upon the fresh sheets
I’ve folded proudly

Without the omnipresence
Of formal thought
Cluttering up my conscience
I can fly around here
Quietly now
Quietly like a butterfly
I’ve foiled you all

While I Shall (day 273)

While I’m afraid of what tomorrow brings
I shall pull up my socks and trod forth
While I can only see habitual retreating
I shall encourage you till the end
While my breath comes slower in my dying age
I will squeeze the last of it into you
While my whispers hit only your ears
I will make sure they embrace your thoughts

..and then
In the power of the history
We shall be forever more

Fuzzy Slippers (day 271)

If it wasn’t for this cursed intense desire
To see what is behind the door
To take that red pill with a glass of water
I maybe would have had a nice sleep last night
Listening to something nice and easy
Perhaps a small fire cackles in the background
Or the warm smell of tea freshly boiled wafts in
Warm, fuzzy pajamas, with nice slippers to boot