The Study

There is a place I like to dwell, deep within my mind

A reflection of myself in a room from distant times

Walls lined with weathered books of dark, romantic verse

Curtains always tightly drawn

The sun is my one curse

Thirsting ever for more oil, a lamp burns on the desk

All is dark and silent only when I rest my pen

No bed do I keep, for sleep is truly sacred

I prefer the cold, hard floor

Less likely to be tainted

Stained by bitter passion

Memories are swept away by the coming and the passing

Nothing’s lasting in the study of my mind

Everything in this dim light can play tricks on the eye

Wake Me

I look ever to tomorrow in hopes of better days

I’m often proven foolish

They all turn out the same

Shame and shattered hopes for me

Always on my own

I don’t know a better way

Pain is all I’m shown

Loan me something new

I sorely need a break

Make me someone else

There’s little more that I can take…

Wake me up

Please be my better day

Eastward Glare

I rise in repetition
The drudgery of a day
I wish the night was static
Forever stuck in place
To taste eternal darkness
That would bring me peace
Or a case of blindness, to hide the world at least
East, I stare contemptuously
Go away, dread Sun
Set a final time
Your life has gone on long…
Long enough

The Wind

Still sky, wrath suspended

The calm before the storm

Something unstoppable

Clouds taking form

Funneling to Earth

Stemming massive flows

Progression so deadly

In circles, they do go

Those who meet them, perish

Those who see them, hide

Never will they say again, “It’s just the wind, dear child”