Ghostly and Gossamer

Night falls
And it’s cold outside
Quiet in this almost winter
Subtle in this twilight
I play at being human
I toy with fate
As if I believe in it
I am almost there
Almost a person
As I haunt this home
Ghostly and gossamer
Recollection is my reflection
Spectral and cunning
I am seeing through eyes
That are seraphic
Newly innocent
Feeling my way through
This half life
Until I can hold onto
Something tangible
And know that
Step by step
I am becoming
Real
Becoming
A breathing thing
Living in something
More than purgatory
Toying with fate
As if I believe in it
As I writhe beneath
My own watchful glare

The Mourning of a Stranger

I could write a eulogy
For the weeping masses
If there were masses there
To weep
I could write upon a stone
The days that she thrived
I could place an obituary
For all the ways in which she died
But I would never truly know
Who she was
Or why she was
A part of me
A screeching angry thing
An absent hopeless creature
A senseless playful sprite
I know how she came to exist
I see the writing on the wall
The ones who walked away
The places that
Never kept their promises
But she was empty
Her hands so raw and bruised
She could never find identity
She could never see beyond
The very second
She was in
Yet some part of me
Regrets her that she is gone
So melodramatic
The mourning of a stranger
Still I would lay
A carnation on her casket
And stare once more
Upon her face
Just to know
That once
She really lived

Consigning to Oblivion

I’d love to say
This is the last time
The last words I will craft
With you in mind
But is it ever?
Because I don’t choose
Whose face I see
When I close my eyes
Or what phrases
Will bring you
Intrusively
To my mind
I would love to say
It’s no longer my intention
To dwell
I would love to not drown
Anymore
As if I could focus
And free myself of the memories
As if I could just
Put down my fists
And give up this
Never ending fight
As if I could forget those nights
But let’s just say
That my world
Is no longer yours
Let’s just say
My nightmares are no longer
Your realm
Let the peaceful
Mistrust
Lie
I’ll get high on words
And walk through the night
Consigning to oblivion
The last time
I wrote for you

Sickly Bloom

Curse the powers that be
Whoever they are anymore
They are at best irrelevant
To my schemes
Like roses wilting in the summer
Such a sickly bloom
The time has come and gone
To remember
Welcome the winter
I will forget the faces
That once imprisoned me
I will no longer
Let the heat
Leave sores upon my skin
I will take grace in the ice
I will dance in the snow
Cursing forever
Everything that kept me
In that diseased summer
The powers that be
Are mechanical jokes
That never made me laugh
As they danced
Upon their cogs and wheels
Who are they now?
Who were they ever?
It doesn’t matter
Not when I can twirl in
The ice cold rain

Decaying Nostalgia

I was going to write about
Nostalgia today
But I am an old hat at that
And it seems I hold on
Too tightly
I am still healing
From the things
That I wanted to be beautiful
Bells ring
And I hum along
This is the present
Everything is burning
But rage can be gorgeous
I am weak
At the moment
I am unsure
And far from secure
I am obsessed with humanity
And innocence
So jaded
So deceptive
I speak in tongues
What is the future?
I always optimistically
Have faith that it will improve
And I will see the beautiful things
I longed for
So often decay creeps in
So often failure is my friend
But still I see hope