The Wound

|The Wound. |

These thoughts of darkness that fill my mind,

are like the comfort of an old friend.

The inevitability of death is a condolence,

somehow allowing the sanity to drop back in, even if, momentarily.

I crave to find him once again..

He is lost to me, here, in this place.

I constantly hear the whispers in my ear,

that I could find what’s erased,

if only I were brave enough to look.

When I seldom dream of him,

I awake, left with nothing, all over again,

realizing he drifted off into the great abyss,

the great sleep of no awaking.

There’s no answers to be captured,

like escaped butterflies, dancing frantically about;

No medicine to heal this wound,

I just have to let it scab over and remember not to pick at it;

There’s no right questions to ask or right words to say,

to retrieve the illusive closure I seek.

How long can I sit here with these ghosts that haunt me?

How long til they decide to take what’s theirs?

|In the Tomb of Oscar Wilde. |

I hear it in the whispering trees,

the desperate ruminations of the dying leaves.

I hear the footsteps of my fellow men,

the wanderers and the truth seekers,

casting shadows upon my concrete tomb,

making eternity seem somehow bleaker.

The warm glow of the foreboding sun,

cant find it’s way inside,

the moon, in all its glory,

Has forgotten me,

in this place that I must hide.

So many words put onto paper,

reflections I’ve bled out for you,

I sold my soul, to let them see,

the truly haunted few.

Now I must choke on my own words,

for this grave keeps me so silent,

and you must learn to live without,

my profound wisest advisement.

|The Martyr. |

You ripped me apart,

left me for dead,

you messed with the mechanisms,

inside this head.

I’ll bleed out for you, gladly,

don’t you see?

You think you’re a martyr,

instead, you sacrificed me.

Filled with creatures and monsters,

I’ll keep swimming in this dark water,

no one to hear me drowning,

where are you father?

|Lonely Forest. |

The day begins to drift away,

the light seeping into darkness.

The last rays of sunlight kiss the leaves of the trees,

with a passion of silent ending.

The wind picks up the dead leaves,

For their last remaining dance,

as the lonely forest descends into its great sleep.

I can see it breathing, I know that it too, dreams.

|A love poem|

How tragic is this human love,

we so desperately cling to for survival?

This illusion that it will surely save us,

while ripping the air from our pleading lungs.

You’ll live the rest of your life starving,

so thirsty you cant go on,

once you’ve had just a little taste of it.

|The Hanged Man.|

The man hanging from the rope, he fights,

But he fights for nothing.

He hangs so he can ascend to greater heights,

But then he drops into the lowest depths.

He thought he was saving what was left

But instead he ripped it all apart.

He thought he was surely evolving,

But silly man,

he turned himself into The Fool.

He sold himself out to The High Priestess

And gave The Devil all his cards.

|No one sees, no one sees. |

The heart flutters at the past,

whispering it’s sad song to the wind;

A melody dripping with longing,

tragic goodbyes and unfulfilled promises.

Sad angels fill the moore, with their tears for this.

They bleed for you..

they kneel down and ask to be forsaken,

all for you..

It’s time I withdraw from society

and just dwell amongst the trees.

No one sees, no one sees..

But I do, I always see.

This morality has hung me too,

just like you.

We should meet for tea,

I’ll see you at the gallows by the barn.

I can show you the filth,

the misfunctioning,

the angels in true form.

Death calls, yet again,

but there’s no one left to answer this time.

I think I’ve found what I’ve been looking for..

Take me darkness,

I am you and you are me,

completely incomplete..

But no one sees, no one sees.

|Scar Tissue|

Breathe.

Calm the mind of this madness,

It’s time to find some balance.

The shadows in my head have voices

and they tell me it's time to come play.

I have to sacrifice the healing,

and teach my heart to keep beating

with all this scar tissue that won’t stop bleeding.