Question Everything

dawnbreak on
insomnia-laden
glossy pupils,
in a sea of
cocaine red
we drift indefinite.

maybe it’s late spring nights
but there’s something calling me
to the woods and the mountains
to run with the wild things,
to forget how much
you were to me.

I don’t believe in God
but there must be something to prayer,
much like a good radio song
can save a bad day out of thin air.

we’re coasting a long
ways from the near-side
of a distant paradise,
and the highway signs
taught me to read
between the lines.
I watched angels crash
and as junkies fell,
our cinders and sparks
will mark the way to Hell.

we danced in the
moonlit meadows
caught between the
earth and the sky,
barefoot and fingers apart
we yearn in our hearts
to escape this twilight,
finally alive.

I told her to pull the trigger, while she still had the chance. The docks were rainy, the night gritty with frozen breaths. I told her that she didn’t want to really know, she didn’t want to pull the bucket from the depths of madness and drink. The grey haze over the harbor misted in my vision, I could hear her shaky hands in her unsure voice, and I knew it wouldn’t be quick. God, no, of course not. I begged her, to just do it, at least, I tried. But she was already gone, and I was on my back, in a puddle.

I found myself drowned through a nickel-sized hole in my back. She’d never heard my cries, I’d just died too slowly to notice.

in bottled deliverance
our solace is sweet
with the shame
we sweat on our brows,
embroidered in
immaculance,
she shattered souls;
and the solstice
stood still.

all those clever little
ruminations on love
are like reading my
own reminiscence,
every dawn is far from
the hues and shades
which we shared,
nothing next to your
luminance.