insomnia

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.

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The Eye of the Poem

So many words to capture this feeling;

This dark slumbering now brightened 

So many thoughts that spiral around

A cyclone of rushing, which inside is silent. 
Breathe in clarity for the first time in decades

Enjoy the oxygen’s dizzying rush

Leave behind bitterness, anger, frustration

Welcome home your recovering Trust. 

Graveside

If ever I doubt the way my heart feels

Once again, unbidden, to my mind will spring

the image of your body, lifeless and still

wreathed in flowers as the pallbearers sing.

 

Just imagining this in my darkest thought

sends daggers clawing through my chest

It makes me regret each time that we’ve fought

And the longings increase to give you my best.

 

So if ever I look at you without my heart twinging

I will remember again, life is so very fleeting.

This place is too evanescent to doubt

that my love for you should know no bounds.

 

Jawbones

I glance about and note some trash
eyes lingering on its curving shape.
Some remnant of a ghostly past,
like a discarded jawbone left to waste.

Not yet abandoned to the dust,
my flesh has yet to rot and die.
With time grows weak my wanderlust,
though now, today, I am alive.

Some spark of thought lights weakly here,
that some day soon my end draws near.
Then my existence too will cease,
my bones back to the earth a piece.

Will words I once breathed live again?
Beyond my grave and charred remains.
If all I wrote, I wrote in vain,
at least in life it eased my pain.

All is not lost, though earth will be,
and gain is perishing to me.
For souls survive beyond the dark,
once bitter stillness grips my heart.