I have washed this same glass again and again

Standing at this sink is a poor rerun
We have seen this episode
We know how it ends
But we continue to watch
Calmness in the familiarity.

Our lives bleed away,
Minutes at a time
Minutes spent at the sink
Spent looking at that crack in the wall
Cleaning that glass

I drank a glass every night and waited for the world to change

The earth continued to revolve and my mind remained the same

I behave just as the Census data behaves.  I tend to make the hardest journal entries public providing they have aged 9-10 years, when I no longer feel connected to the person that I was. It is easier to publish the ramblings of a stranger.

A time you cherished when details where meat, the rest bread.

The scent of a pillow, the safe morning air, the crimson of wine stained lips.  The absence of clock hands, the silence and unspoken promise of perpetual gaiety.

you draw it raw in the bottle. It deserves a eulogy yet your dead are with you, wrong to mourn the living?

In a case of glass I keep this

Touched by not one, not air or heat

It mocks me with its great ending from its throne of glass

Prelude murdered by overture before it could pick up a beat

It laughs at time, its healing relief beguiled by the rot of memory

A masterpiece so set in ruin it can only be appreciated by its makers

The sound bleeds the ears, the ( Read more... )

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Gaiety and positive thoughts fleeting, growing in a storm, wilting and dying before they reach potential.

Brilliant.

A crucible of negativity
beguiled by your honesty
charmed by the beauty
though it cuts deep to the bone
The nectar is my harmony

without you I would be
a semblence of living
that I never wish to see

A  static, a work of oil from 10 paces,
imperfections, faults deep and as old as me.

I have tumbled down
and there is no where I would rather be