These Bonds
June 13, 2007

The grey mists are swirling
And the phantoms call out to me
I remember every face, every name
Height, weight, voice, and rank
Even now they serve as judge and jury

The elements are warring
And the tumult distorts me
I want to rub the guilt and death away
And to rub life back in, with blood
Like reviving an idle limb

The nightmares are calling
And the mindscape misses me
I try to clear my mind with discipline
But discipline is what I lack
And reason works little on an animal in pain

The demands are rising
And the damage is several tolls on the same road
I cannot serve my ambition and the world
The balance is hard to discover
A dog cannot serve two masters

The arteries are living
And the organs function to prove I live
I wish I could lose consciousness
And float around like sweet smoke
A spirit can only wander if the bonds that keep it here
Disappear  


Hollow Running
April 30, 2007

Hollow running 
Anguish flowing over me
Running anguish
Like the current in a sea

All my world is becoming water
Undertow and flood surrounding me
In this world I may drown
And if I sink none will remember me

Hollow aching
Anguish growing within me
Aching anguish
Like the drilling of cold concrete
Cracking the paving of a street
To slowly empty all of me

All my world is entombing my flesh
Underground and all around the dead
In this world I may fade
And if I do none will marvel at the life I led

Hollow haunting
Anguish welling up in me
Haunting anguish
Like the singing of the cold sea
The ebbing of the tide and waning of the moon
To slowly empty all of me  


Silent as a Mime
April 30, 2007

I sell myself by having no spine
I own neither my destiny, nor my time
I tread water, silent as a mime

Painted up and smiling like a doll
A work of irony, in finery wrought
An act that performs while I'd rather not

I sulk in a corner and dwell on the past
As I sit in my trap and whistle my fears
A search is turned inwards to find glass tears

Dressed down and whining like a mutt
It's a mask of ambition served up on a platter
A tune drilled out till the windows shatter

I smile to myself as the ghost cries "Whore!"
The dead lips parting to curse me some more
I smile to the crowd, silent as a mime