We sometimes want what will not help…
We seek the lights that will melt our hands
Fingers stretching to touch the gold;
Grasping flames not meant to hold…
We sometimes trust what is always wrong…
Freeing floods deeper than our souls,
Lamenting as we cannot float
Cries for mercy cut off by mill-stones
We trap ourselves then weep for home.
There has been no thing lost
That He can not restore.
There will never be so high a cost
That He would not pay for.
You are covered and renewed
There is only freedom now for you.
I still think about you, wonder if my veins will ever forget
The way your hand felt pressed against my chest
how soft your skin was, how unreal the red seemed
Painted on his gloves, it weaves through my dreams
I have not tasted sleep since the night you came my way
I have not faced a dreamless land since the horror of that day
Every sundown, nightmares come to wriggle in my mind
I do not rest, I only wait
In agony for sunrise.
Every time I close my eyes
I see her body at my feet
Lying crooked in the street
Gurgling breath, begging me
The other prevailing thought…
“Her old hands were so soft.”
I hope you are okay. I grieve for what
Happened that day.
Every self-torment starts with dark
The shadows bleed the cripple’s heart
Never did sunlight worsen what first
Was brought into being by the night poet’s verse.
The daylight is here and my fear
Should be gone
The darkness, like mist
Evaporates from the lawn
My star-gazing, sugar-cubes
Flung in the sky
The current of pain where the Milky Way lies
I should be whole and peaceful and still
Instead I choose tumult
and mudslicks, and the pills I abhor;
My hands gleefully wretched with dark oil-spills.
Let my heart still and stir the river no more.
what does my heart detest, this
whirling, weeping mess?
I feel the sleep-chalk draw its lines
the crumbling towers, cursed vines
my time is almost done.
I can’t continue to run.