For a man breaking internally as an introspective wanderer
Aching to be in the duality of a reciprocal love
I have been absent in concert for three decades
Mounting on these walk-away days
Overcoats of deformity parade on top of me
In stature, in visage, in pot-hole skin bearing
Lumps in wound-in natural protrusion
Answering questions I never hear
At a distance concluded in sterile rapture
To cast-off the barrels and blown away
In this dusted-silence scattered across my forehead
In red flecks of a painted picture my back is always facing
The dire undulation between resignation and the brutality of hope
Battering my cutter’s sides in this Atlantic
Groaning at midnight on some time-line to forget
Where I am and sink into the oblivion of soggy sleep
Writing out the letters to the wind and the scrolls in glass
To cork up and pass in digital lunges at love
Epically rebuffed and toyed, ignored and ploys
At attention on the bow, of this crashing ship of now
Deserted island rations, unwrapped and capped
At one bite every half a day, depleting still so quickly
And in the distance is a tropical rain, monsoon so soon
After this crash to obliterate this past
Of shipwrecked coves walking naked out a busted port hole
With nothing to my name except memories I would rather forget
Lost here praying to murder my hope so that there will be nothing left
Lurking inside, just a hollow core of salty air, oxidizing the metal that rests
Bonded to my bones and welded to my veins, no December, no April
No trust in the justice of being faithful, to honesty to photogenic skin
Just a sun burn and a sand crust to block all ways in, no more digging, no more holes
No more introspective roles, I want to be nothing but a façade
Admitting lonely hurts as it always has, futile to alter this gray
Beard growing, and resigned into knowing
Disinterest on me is like mosquitoes to blood,
An overcoat repellent to all love
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