Desperation (day 2921)

Desperation never sold
So the Fair was abandoned
What went wrong with the night?
Holiday in a seabed of weeds
Natural sunlight
What’s so wrong with our age?
How could we see what we wore?
Uncomfortable and undecided
Singing our song
Dirty water and pooling at the bottom

Collection Box (day 2920)

In envelopes of my collection box
My heartache rests beside my lover’s hair
Rusted pins and unused pens
Worn well and never used.

Could opening be the end?

I drove a long night
Through windy roads
Of Scotland’s y’Or
Great Bras d’Or,
And long wild grass on feral land:
Swan song I’ll sing again.

Head can see, alighted way
Matchsticks lite Borrower’s torch;
Down a cold tunnel with dripping water.

Lover’s name in a letter she carried.

Overseeing (day 2908)

What laid me here atop this mountain so
: A collection of thoughts
Reared of only my dreams.

What beauty drove me to season’s edge
: Climbed ever higher
To divine what I knew cried.

What left me open
: Observing, witnessing, counting
Driving my layers of skepticism.

Why did I not hold my here heart
Though I knew it was you
Who held such precious space
For there it was
Forgotten with the dust settled in the corner
Yet overseeing neither bond nor collection.

Bed of Roses (day 2904)

I woke into a bed of roses
Alone and bleeding out my heart
Dark glass shattered all around
How would I ever learn?
Slipping over a raincloud
Pouring into my open mouth
Yearning for a graceful death pose
Arched spine my sorrow lover
A road forgotten now
Spitting out a bitter taste
Into howling winds of angry hands
That took away my breath.

Riverboat (day 2888)

When the winds keep blowing
What does it look like outside your window?
Clashing hearts wrecking
What lonely clouds could share
And a one eyed ghost singing ballads
Heard down at the local bar
That kept on crying
In spite ten thousand broken hearts
Laying open on the dirty floor
So that in one blissful moment
A riverboat will come a gambling
Setting sail for better shores.

No Love (day 2860)

There had been no love
In each open space
Found on the cobblestones.
No, each open space
Found on the cobblestones
Was toxic
Spit and debris
Dust and grime
That transcribed its years
Onto the closeness to my nose
That I could always see
Though my eyes were held afar.