Nice

Not knowing is magical                                                                                                                                                              Just as the unknown                                                                                                                                       Either one is equally certain

Scales

 

Shall a glance

Sedate the shallows

 

Hailed hollows

Of an unlit son

 

Roll on these

Weighted dice

 

And shall Fate

And Chance

 

Succumb to

The scales of time

Annoyed Panic

Ecstatic although find way to manage

the moving concerns of unjustified concern

Becoming a healthy habit that this

addict would rather stop, but not yet

my eardrums haven’t shattered,

each eye seeking insight in the void.

 

A danger to myself and others, the

proof pudding from practices will

thoughtfully.

How grains of Fate have fallen

between the luke-warm fingers.

 

Concussion with momentary relapse

into amnesia, I open and close

words with each.

All beside music is noise

 

 

Honest Gestures

Nauseous nursing

As the sip shall last

Such meaningful gestures

That only the jester shall

applaud

 

For is responsible

Go who is at fault

Falling in leaves

Seeking that black rosed thorn

 

Whence I was torn

No O’ evermore I shall leave ever

so soon

 

Breaking the welcoming

void of dawn

Let me play with each page

Until it pulps against the pen

Make love against the plain

Find meaning against the paint

Suffering in each dig and slice

Each and every cut

 

Making Love with the pen

until Deathe by Her inkling

guide to Fate

Parting Together (Last Little Song)

To have felt

so much, even

without meaning

 

We wouldn’t

kill ourselves.

 

Feeling passes everyday

Passion remains the same

Feeling fleeting

Devoid of meaning

Passion remains.