Doors
Do not enter
The meandering moments
Racing through the skull are
Private
Behind is tracking a shadow
Filling the dust
From the tracks you left until
Authorized Personal Only
Are allowed to pick
The scab off the choice
The mistake
The folkish gesture
Avoiding the choice to
Keep Closed
So scars do not melt
Avoiding progress of
tomorrow
Yet you
Push
Further into the
faded postcards
Of the previous, and
Yet we continue to fester
To forgot that progress means
Do Not Block
The forward trajectory
The immense unwritten
Still we
Pull
At what was thrown
Out the window
Onto the pavement
Still we avoid
Caution
And keep scratching,
Ripping, steaming
Of the choices
Once made
And again we ignore the
Truth to follow
The promise we lied
To embrace, the message,
Do Not Disturb
The signs are closed
So we will reach the
Exit
Bitter Freeze
She stands still, looking across the room. She is not alone, friends and family surround her presence, but she stares, nods, and grins. She is present, she is absent, she is not in here or there, she devoid of location. She merely holds space, yet floats without direction in the emptiness of room which is a galaxy of nothing to her. Bitter is the only word that connects to her, its the only word she uses to describe her state. She lacks tactile, instict, visual sense, but she tastes the bitter. The wormswood, brimstone, anise contol the palate, it is her only partner. She is frozen in the bitter.
Son Unrivaling
Mental pressed
To mother’s temple
Volume at 50
Son unravels
Yet the bark
Of fighters continues
Past round 10
No decision
Dad checks the cards
Knock pending
Son unravels
Hides, straps to protect
Mom, yet the straps
Are against her back
On her face
Metal pressing tissue
Attack the past, memories
ignite and protects... zero
Worth, stick, value
Son unravels
steel in hand
Volume covers
Verity, streaming,
Distracting, metal
Barrel in hand
against mothers scalp
Son unravels