just out of view,
hazy,
shades of hope,
love,
peace,
intermingling, racing through tributaries,
invading,
veins of scarlet blood,
streaking down,
cheeks moist with tears,
seeking,
searching,
hither and thither,
as the years amble on,
as the flesh wrinkles …
leaving behind glimpses of soft,
gentle joy,
slowly,
effortlessly, inexorably,
as dreams settle,
floating between laughs,
onto the barren ground,
soon to wither.
times, like idle rhymes, flow,
inuring consciences, feeding on apathy, to grow,
time, the scything blade, slices through ramparts, leaving the scabbard bloody red, retreating as it departs,
time, peels off the veneer, refinement laid bare, the grotesque masquerade, in which we all our parts must share, the sorry charade … … …
slipping through empty breaths sliding down on bent knees scraping raw flesh against cold skin hollow kisses falling to the desolate floor swept up discarded trashed recycled churned out strewn littered alongside barricaded hearts yearning to feel again to touch to taste to ache to be human once more to know to believe that one can feel that one can hear and see and dig beneath the veneer of sophisticated tinny smiles flinging around casually barbed words meant to jab gnawing at the core of all that makes us human the sting of tears the taste of salt the dripping red bleeding off roses in quaint gardens pruned to perfection yet dead inside numbed into comfortable complacency as the world turns threatening the linearity of time that prays for returns while this heart this soul this being within the cauldron of palpable loss simply burns
Scribbled Verse 