The sun finally shines and here
I am walking down this treacherous street.
Every footfall takes me places
I never wanted to meet.
Each step a betrayal
as the ground fails to hold me up.
It swears it's tired of keeping me up
and it just won't do it any more.
The clouds rest on my shoulders
like heavy heavy intentions,
the very greyness of their nature
shoving me to the ground.
The rain consoles,
a sad attempt to make this serious mood dissipate.
It's fat droplets splattering on my cheeks.
At least I no longer have to cry for myself.
I do so get tired of crying for myself every day.
Crying for the loss of these words
that were never my friends anyway.
They wrap around me like cartoonish ghouls
from an innocent world long ago
when cartoons could still be scary
and wait to feed on my empty carcass
each and every time I give up.
Today.
Today I have sure as hell given up.

I imagine he sleeps with a restless soul that tosses within him.
Perhaps it even makes his shoulders shake.
Deep in the night when she assumes he is asleep.
He is the Captain of this ship
and it's destination is the past.
Forever a goal but never reached.
It's a trend these days,
to wear your heartache on your tongue
like nobody's business.
Lord knows, I've begun that fad myself.
He brushes his teeth at night
before slipping into little boys pajamas.
Then washes the blood from his hands
and burns the clothing he'd worn
on his long journey of self-deprecation that day.
I imagine running my fingers along his cheek
but the daydream always ends with an old man's eyes
scaring me awake.
Who could know the unexpected turns
a crazy man's intentions can take.
He thinks the world is going to judge him
so I've promised to wear my best broken heart
to the trial in his hands.