Dead For A Decade.

Some things were meant to be said and lost.

What of what was meant to be lost

              but was remembered.

A wish to erase your filthy sin

from this place

                              in my mind.

A tin full of Christmas.

   your first words to me on paper.

-A happy birthday wish.

                         A word I do remember,

and in the other vein

     I inject the fear and fatigue

     of what was meant to be forgotten.

Wasted energy

                   Jello thick air,

          and without a care-

- I read what was said

     and meant to be forgotten.

Darling, you are not rotten.

We were young,

our heads clearly full of cotton.

Hush those words which will never be forgotten.

 

While I wish I could erase your filthy sin 

                  from this place in my mind.

          

       I'd rather move on,

     leave the tin of untold truth behind,

               because we are not the kind

                           who wake sleeping dogs

CBRD

Awake,

          in fear,

     the mind scrambles to see

what this dream could mean for me.

A series of war and misfortune

     that would mortify merciless men. 

And I find myself asking,

      "Anxiety-

                  what you got for me?"

In The Recesses Of Your Mind.

 Grief wants you to feel guilt

                        in your gladdest times.

You look him in the eye.

You ask him,

                  "What more can I do?"

You tell him I've given everything I have.

One day,

           you have to turn your head

from the past of everything done and said.

(And) When you hang your head

         do not dare hang it in shame.

         There is no name to cast a blame.

Let it rest in a moment to linger

               in the loving arms of life -complete.

So the coldest shivers of the mind can, 

in time, allow some sun to shine

We Are Alive

 I am not your beacon of light.

             The poster child of mental health and well-being.

             An example of what, or what not to be.

I am only being,

        what has been.

        Present,

in another town,

preoccupied,

wind swept into the next passage of time.

We are together in crime.

           In the sin of confidence and fidelity.

What a weird thing to say,

     we are not the norm. 

     We no longer swim in the sea of sullencholly chum-

the bloody slush of who we could've been.