Foreign

‘Fondness for the falling’

Could my disease be more cynical?

I reach my warped hands to a close,

But my strains are simple in the end.

My colors run and pool in hidden pockets

Where they reflect and shimmer.

They catch your eye and you may forget

The tangible fragility of my fingers

And become more involved in shadow ideas.

A Memoir

This is a story,

Told through wanted song,

Of a boy who couldn’t sing,

Couldn’t dance,

Couldn’t shine in any light.

This is a life,

Lived on through hope,

Of a boy who couldn’t pray,

Couldn’t forgive,

Couldn’t shine in any light.

This is a moment,

Measured through instance,

Of a boy who couldn’t count,

Couldn’t see,

Not in any kind of light.

This is the story of a boy passed over every day in every way.

Subtle Change

A year ago in my cathedral mind

My pestilence of diction wormed it’s way inside of me

And burrowed it’s rank dying body deep within.

Puss filled rhetoric dripping with venom

Is now my disease.

Amen

Mirror prayers haunt me.

They ask far too much.

Prepared?

Do we have to do this again?

And they reveal much, without answering.

This new wrinkle says:

This new grayed hair says:

This ancient snicker says:

As I traverse mirror ghosts remind me.

Reflections are everywhere.

And they reveal me in shadows.

I feign into your eyes,

And you can’t help but think:

Is that all?

Loneliness

You call my name from the darkness

And somehow I fall behind.

When you whisper you move

All the broken pieces of my mind.

And when I’m lost I won’t go.

When I’m lost I won’t go.

When I’m lost I…

She’s the morning sunlight.

She’s warmth when rains gone by.

She’s heaven.

She’s an angel standing by.

Somehow I’m always falling

For some reason she picks me up

And when the darkness moves in closer

She’s always there to make it stop

And when I’m lost I won’t go

When I’m lost I won’t go

When I’m lost I…

She’s the morning sunlight.

She’s warmth when rains gone by.

She’s heaven.

She’s an angel standing by.