Surrounding
thoughts as if no eagle can fly above or rabbit burrow under
The
plane is thick like a time thief stolen and the heart beats
Seeing
the grand empty stadiums of nothingness gathering in the glare
Playing
sport with hell and paradise inoculating men to deed
Means
nothing to me
The
challenges of routine appear like robotic instructions programmed in code
To
carry out iterations for a given span of promises of ones and zeroes
Through
the gray unknowns, barking the only inoculant to the numb
Is
to write, to drip out a measure of something worth a damn-bit
That
this day was different, proven back amongst the others
That
the endless thoughts in a set of hours mattered enough to assert
A
singularity of mention in the annals of historic fiction
That
this life was worth living for a moment of illusion
Like
a glistening ornament on a holiday no one believes in anymore
Transformed
from living breathing organism into hung globes of snow
Memories
of no one knows, of stars and synthetic boreal behemoths
Assembled
to bear credence to the passage of other days before that
Now
crumpled into an attic and packed into a corner, viewed in revision
Promise
of what honest is in comparison
The
days fall like snowflakes misting on with the pancakes steaming syrup
Sticky
and salivating credence that days could breathe and begin again anew
The
closets closed, the fabrics outgrown, the socks and feet they stir, they meet
The
holidays of normalcy like Homer and his hound together gripped
Like
thoughts of suicide and Christmas
Thousands
see another stream of Tuesday-normality
The
wall of air buffers firm the stock of inventory blocked
Into
dollars and currency charging the laws of a future’s gravity
Exhausted
in the stretch, never wanted the measure of a breath
To
respiration moving gold, love’s treasures bought and sold
In
the minutes ticking of someone asking for an answer with others talking
Doesn’t
matter if the response is right, only that a blank is filled
A
solider returned, a man was killed, a body sits in post-traumatic stress
Idling
nothingness of purpose, a man made to massacre and could not last the winter
With
no one left to die, a skeleton has no tears to cry
Images
return fly around the ceiling of the room like a winter’s wren
Coming
in from the cold and trapped inside a living room grown old
Never
leaving for seed his stomach is stretched to believe
Freedom
must come from within and yet it so rarely ever does
Cannot
escape the turns, the days, the sun it all seems the same
The
rise, the lies, the compromise to spell the names
Of
men who use to bear my face
Too
many lives lived in one case
That
was not me, not the me I am today
Not
the man I want to face, not the man who can say the same
Loved
a world that killed him, died until it ended stiff
Rested
and repair, the body of a man who is no longer there
Mirror
lies and gives the mind the urge to scare
Scrape
the shell and bend the hell into a power of the self
Carry-with
the nutrients of time, the forest burned and soil shinned
Savor
man and hearts expand, belief that winter ends
March
it sends the messages of trespasses to lend
The
will to see the morn as a dream of forlorn
The
love of meanings born
In
the hold of a child, the smile of a woman
The
heart of understandings forgiven
In
the prayers of heart spoken to the self
All
the bygones ready for anyone to read on a shelf
Lay
them out ubiquitous turned meaningless
Say
the refrains until they no longer sound pains
The
repetition is internal volition to never succumb
To
never fall prey to wish that what was could ever be undone
Wars
have been fought, bombs ignited and launched
The
spears struck and tips broken off
Never
get them out hold the handle like a spout
Only
chance to pour the poison out
Given
time the blood is inviting the sharks
Stay
so still, the ocean is bred to kill
Don’t
speak, lie to the face of those that can breathe
Above
the surface, dive to survive, dive, dive, dive
Come
back when evolved, see the sun and forget the calls
The
bells and the snow, the moments of the calendar begin
Revolve
and see that nothing ever ends, only choices made and made again
Bloom
the bloody days and melt the rings in the fire's hearth
See
the lines blur and the discussions start
The
monotony of cosmology, to seek the universe and see irrelevance
To
see the opposite of every semblance
Mirror
out what is held within means the end of men
Reflection
slow and welcome in the light of outside snows
Window’s
transparency returns and all the lessons of the world are learned
Anyone
becomes an outlet, an exit, a topic, a route and time revolts
Ticking
not in simulacrum-notation but an army of original manifestations
Each
a lure, each a beauty obscured by the glare, the mirror of a turn
A
choice inside the boast that this was all there is and testify the testament
The
book, the books written and burned, burned and burned
See
the fire and all the days to unlearn
Now
that the glow is finally gone, a man can see outside and walk through walls
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