Sunday, November 16, 2008



through the pane of glass,

the shattered dream

of love


cry with me my dear,
for our season is spent
and nigh is the black,
sweetly singing

clasp my hand
to the suicide
of a better place
A music for our hell

framed at midnight;
behind the moviehouse
smoking a joint
and crying,
with a .45 in hand
and no bullets;

the air thick with demons
and flying things,
and whispering softly
kissing my lips
to taste
my soul,
practice patience

life is hell
our season is spent
our river dry
our faces wet
with fighting
& spies
the birds

cawing madly
the leaves change color
and the night comes quicker;

oh my dear
this is hell
this blackness is hell
this absence is hell
its all around me
i must find,
the way through

without your light
or halo
i cannot
& am stuck

please forgive the silence
for i am lost.

No comments: