Returning to the Tower
It was not there

The next Block
My former Home
Gone

All the places I stayed
For years
Notable by Absence

The Window with views
Of London
Empty


Now
I too

Am not there

only if i didnt

listen to space song on repeat
pour that liquid right in
smoke my 'last' cig
reach for heaven's gate

stay in bed a little longer
cancel all my plans
dissappoint everyone around
hurt myself

but i did.

I dragged

Duality down

A delicate

Deception

 

( lost I found myself dazed)

 

Face to face

With my youth

I was caught staring

At my misguided directions

 

(Surly to succumb to the maze)

 

For what these

Dreams demand

Go deeper

Than blood

Calf or correction

 

( to get out I had to be unmade)

 

Saying goodbye

To apart of my self

To gain

An ever evolving perception

Fear is a fire that eats the soul
Muffles the brain in a cold body’s triumph
Toss the world from hand to hand
Say, praise the petty warrior heart

Why do I do this? This mumbling
How many Discord VCs to lurk through?
Silence becomes; nobody hears the girl talk
Yet she is good with word, think one once did say

Bold with brushstrokes I dream to make
Yet never the warrior I’d one day paint
As mice we scuttle, say, as a mouse I do
She’s so shy, is said, and I seethe - I stutter

Words are we, and the absence as well
Bumbling thunder that tricks a tongue
Fear is a fire that eats the soul
With its carnal hands, it is so so sweet

I yield to mumble, the scuttle of old
This is not the pretty stumble of youth
World bloomed a bud, bright-eyed and blue
Called to me, it calls me still

Called to me, they all do still
Curse the Icarus eyes of song
We couldn’t look through, we couldn’t do

Gold did lure, it glittered too
Stroked the wings - I couldn’t do
                                        Lord, I couldn’t do

Wake up, my dear friend.
"It's a new day today,
and I have a new song for you,"
said the yellow-bellied sunbird.

I.

she lives in one of the crummy rooms
down the hall
in the building
where the rats run and tumble
through its terrible walls
like children at play

she has intimate conversations

with saints
and pigeons
and the daffodils in the park
and the rats in the walls
and late at night
with her dead daughter

her boots echo down the hall
she's going to clean the gutters of trash
and feed the cats
I watch from my window
the cats come running from the abandoned church
hundreds come running
the kids call her cat queen
i call her savior

II.


I still hear those boot steps
when the air turns cold
and lakes freeze
and her ghost tells me
people die the way they live
and through the looking glass
down the rabbit hole
we'll all go


III.


there in this concrete
in that crummy room
was the thief that hunts my dreams

but you were something gentle and kind
a brightness in the projects

a caring heart
a loving soul
in this city where there were few

You know it's near the end when the pope atones for abuse of children, by Catholics. They're all about deceit. And wouldn't the idea of what atonement is be defined by the abused? I wonder if they have to kiss his ring. Then he slips them some disease, so they can go to the hospital...which are all ran by Catholics. You can't make this **** up.

The best thing we can say is "I don't know"

It is also the hardest thing for a lot of folks to say. They like to think they know things, but a lot of the time thinking you know something keeps you from learning.