The Journey Home

The silence

burrows deep into

my skin,

soaking right through

to my veins.

 

The air is

tight,

anxious,

as if it fears

the coming

storm.

 

The highway

stretches out

before me.

A painted sunset

reflects its light

on wet

pavement,

casting a blood-red

sheen.

 

My mind feels

muddy,

thick,

as I contemplate

the road

before me.

 

The sunset fades

and a fingernail

moon,

almost dark,

begins its

ascent.

 

I pick up my

soul

from the highway’s

shoulder,

tucking it

deep inside

where no one

can find it–

the journey home

is never

safe.

 

7-4-9

 

Thought Control

A needle

pierces my flesh

and contortionist memories

begin to twist

through my

mind.

 

I try to blink,

to open my

eyes,

but am pulled back

to the phantasm display

whirling

behind my lids.

 

Real and unreal

blend,

then separate,

then blend again,

like a kaleidoscope,

and I try to focus

on one single

spot,

like a spinning dancer,

to keep steady.

 

The imagery

swirls before me,

challenging my

past

and taunting

my future.

 

I try to scream,

but my saccharine

coated tongue

rests heavy,

like a sandbag,

damming up

a river of

sound.

 

The world seems

off balance,

tilting,

and I fear I might

roll off  the

edge.

 

I can feel

the other bodies

in this living graveyard,

hear their moans,

and smell

the sour

of their frightened

humanity.

 

I remember

when they brought us

here,

or I think I do,

and I try

to hold on

to their reason–

their lie,

amid our

threatened truths.

 

They said

we were dangerous.

A threat

to order.

Enemy combatants.

 

But that

is absurd,

for the only weapon

I’ve wielded

was a

pen.

 

7-3-19

 

 

 

 

Shattering the Looking Glass

I have shattered

the looking glass.

The haze clears

and I see the ruins–

smouldering

and wasted.

 

Loose, waving curls

of acrid smoke

lick at the sky

like serpent’s tongues;

they seem to dance

above the burnt out

sanctuaries

and hidden vaults

that I

laid bare.

 

It’s all exposed–

the useless trifles,

the rack,

and the rusted chains

which bound us.

 

Shadows slide

between burnt-out rooms,

wandering

with unknown purpose

towards emptiness,

and away from nothing.

 

Everything is gone–

prison and home,

secrets and promises,

truth in lies.

I have shattered them all

in the looking glass.

 

7-2-19

 

Launched from the Past

Unknowingly,

I launched a

missile

from my distant past

to my unlucky

present.

 

Now I run for

shadows,

gasping in the smoke

of burning

calm.

 

The flames whip the sky

as I dodge the flying

shrapnel

of my obliterated

mind.

 

3-24-19

 

 

The Foundations

It’s all

crumbling.

We ignored the cracks,

now rebar whines

somewhere deep inside,

and the foundations begin

to groan.

 

A cloud crosses

before the moon,

and I wonder how close

Hati is to him now.

Someday he’ll be caught.

The wolf will

devour

the moon,

in the end.

 

Even the music

has faded.

Each note blurs into

the next,

as they all rush past,

without notice.

 

Everything reeks of mildew

and rot.

Neglect.

I hear crows

in the distance,

and the foundations

groan louder.

 

It’s time to wake up,

dear ones,

or we’re lost.

 

5-12-19

Cultural Graveyard

The roiling masses

scoop ashes of yesterday

into purses of gold,

as they crawl through fog

unaware of its caustic fumes.

 

The scent of lavender

and a glint of emerald light

sneak out from cracked-stone monuments

to dead and misplaced dreams.

 

In the distance

A low wail begins.

 

3-21-19

 

A Haunted Imago

You seep through my veins

and my mask shifts to accomodate.

The past is swollen, bloated,

yet they worship it,

so we hide in alleyways

surrounded by decaying things–

A haunted Imago,

and misshapen wings.

 

3-21-19

 

Night has Fallen

A cradle lay abandoned

in a darkening room,

as one by one a dozen candles

expire near a forgotten shrine.

 

A bird of prey

perches atop a barren olive branch–

Lord of a dying habitat.

Night has fallen.

 

3-21-19

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑