No longer could the gates be closed
No longer were they present
Abandoned
For when the sky
Turned its evil red
A wind swept in
Opening the holes
Receding each memory
Until desolation took hold
And all was washed
White with time
Which left no one
To collect
Fragments of dust
Standing guard
At the gates
They could no longer close.
Tag: wash
Clouded Awake (day 3021)
This is not a rain suit
This is a cloudy mess
Of insanity
Flooding onto the streets
And washing away the dirt
Drug here from those leaving
From where we are from
There are no marks that turn around
We have not begun
We leave the traces of our hearts
Laying in the bed
Falling helplessly
Lifelessly
From the sky
Into the waking hours.
Pieces (day 2932)
Do you care if my soul comes in pieces?
A string attached to spine
Rolling around in a messy wash
Of leftover nails and splinters
Gathered here in my left hand
From a botched carpentry project.
I shot straight,
I climbed high,
I read the books on ethics,
And there beyond my grasp was hidden
A melodramatic stretch of time
That scratched itself
Over dusty chalkboards
And caught again my web
String attached to spine.
Feeling the Same (day 2482)
The sun has taken to settling out my madness
I couldn’t see the light here for a while
When I looked for each new day
A black crow came by to have a say
When I knew I wouldn’t be seeing you again
There was a memory tuned to another song
It swept like daisies in an open field
Call me when you wash away
Everything we ever tried to say
Then it won’t be so hard to take my straight design
I am ready to work here for my little means
What can I say? I think I’m getting old
Haven’t seen a city wall
Since I hurried on my way
A rush important I still cannot feel the same
Looking Down (day 2458)
What breaks my heart
Again I’m here to silence me
A dream I had to wash away
Valium of a memory
For which is here I cannot see
Without much more than a dream
Run away like diamond’s light
I won’t look back again
The music’s on to penetrate
And here I’m looking down.
Dehydrating Apples (day 1940)
Wash and cut
Sweet aroma floating
Crunch crunch crunch
Fingertips (day 1777)
When did my hands start to look so old?
I hope one day I will return
And it will wash away
And I will be let out to run
In the sweet grass that stains
My fingertips
Students Desk (day 1687)
Memories have begun to leave holes
I dare not fill,
I dare not plug for fear
Night’s sky should wash
Over my visage with a mirage
I could not grasp,
Though searching I should be.
And yet I sit amidst
This abandonned students desk,
My knees hitting a cold metal bar
That reminds me
I am only here a short while.
Mind, Soul, Body (day 882)
To lose is time
To sing is drown
To laugh is lost
Wither my mind
To hard is cruel
To long is wish
To watch is hope
Uncover my soul
To wash is dirt
To hunt is life
To feed is health
Deliver my body