.
There’s an ancient duct tape patched
roller suitcase still up in the attic,
scarred by sky miles and undiscerning
indifference;  it came to rest like a final breath
exhaled at the end of the long road ―

In the dusty rafters of silent repose  
the death of an alter-ego comes to life
and jars and jogs the  sleeping dogs 
that lay benign as a pothole riddled road

Holding onto memories buried alive,
hidden away remembered ― 
      sans wings to fly away
laid bare unweighed with the weight
of everything else garnered and saved
      subsisting in a shallow grave;
hoarded and hidden away breathing
locked up with the other baggage borne
       behind tired eyes

Feeling the ache of blood stained knees
falling down sullied at the side of the road
Hindsight and a roll of duct taped memories
linger;   stuck to the  grey bandage scars,
second guessing should have thrown out
with the permanently temporary
fading plasticized luggage name-tags
back when I was still close enough to care;
too many miles to reconsider  ago

Some say: "it's the journey not the destination"                                    .
Some day when its too late we'll know
Some day it will be too late to make amends
        for everything i could not be ...


           harlon rivers ... 07  06  2018

One bottle of wine all to myself
Didnt even need a glass
Just drank straight out of the bottle
Not one person aware
Just as I prefer it
Im sure it will come to a head
As soon as my tongue touches that one drop
that will push my limit
Everyone will hear it time and time again
Cant keep it bottled up
But for now, I'll keep the bottle up

He came inside of me a year ago tomorrow
He didn’t want to stay and now I’m filled with so much sorrow
Why can’t you see me?
How does it feel to **** a ghost?
Do you know how it feels to feel invisible?
You dumped your emotions on me and then you dumped your load
You unpacked your baggage and left it on the floor
I tripped and fell over it and then I wanted more
I’ll admit,
My judgment is poor...

Do you know
The shape of the my mind
The glimpses I catch
Give me a fright
Pretty please tell me
What do you see?
Are the images less frightening
Than I've known them to be

How do I put it together
How does the baggage become the feather
The philosophy tells me
What Will be will be
And acceptance of the facts is the way to be free
Free of expectations
And the following disappointment
An accidental acquisition easily defeated by intention