Fragile State

Perhaps I left a piece behind

On my way, all in a hurry

Trying to live life

At that pace, things get blurry

Losing definition

Whisked away

Never noticing, until I take a break

Pieces breaking off

Loss lost in the tides of change

Mistaking it for progress

On porcelain legs

Shorter Lives

If I could hold time in my hands

I’d wrap it like a gift

I’d give it all to you

Every single bit

I’d wish away the pain

All the struggles of old age

I’d see you spend your days

Resting or at play

Laying in the garden

Driving neighbors mad

Going for long walks, then sleeping like the dead

My head is full of memories

Most happy, some sad

Unconditional love is something rare to have

Before and Beyond

I saw you last night, I called out your name

Passing out of sight, passing through walls

You were gone again

Shadow in the shade

Becoming one

A dream into memory

Remember me

The way I used to be

A few short steps behind

With all the world between

Forgotten Wilds

I used to wander the countryside, through the pines and the ceders

Greeting great maples and oaks, brimming with life

Occasional willows, walnut trees, birches barked in white

Giving way to little known meadows

Old places hid from memory, each a breathing echo

Deeply rooted in the past

Centuries standing either side of the path

Adventures, lost

Before satellite maps


Foundation abandoned

Stone steps to mark the way

Ascent to echoes, lost secrets of this place

Taken away

Taken to grave by denizens of old

No occupancy, save for mice and voles

Hidden in the cracks

Nesting in the ruins of memories past

One Last Dream of Mallory

Six years of silence looms over me

Obelisk of regret

Blotting out the sun

Standing on my chest

Pressed against my heart

Struggling with the burden

Loss of self respect

Ashamed at the hurting

Was it worth it?

Not one single bit

Two thousand days wasted

A future traded for a fix


Well, it seems I’ve let my health slip too far into decline once again. There’s a fair chance this will be my final entry, yet I find there’s little I have left to say. I suppose after the amount of deeply introspective poetry I’ve written, most of the bases have been covered. I’ve loved and lost, lived and genuinely died, I’ve given, and sadly taken a life, and had second, third, even fourth chances to make things right. I want for little at this point in my short, but full existence. Naturally, I hold a wealth of regret that I’m sure to take to my grave, but the past can’t be changed. As I previously mentioned, there really isn’t much to say, other than to thank anyone who has ever taken the time to read one of my rambles, whether or not it was a poem. Know that my words carry the truth and essence of who I really am.

With love,

Justin Arthur Clapp – Lloyd

Static Loss


Somewhere out of sight

Little active presence despite an active mind

Time passing

Whittle it away

Essence waning with each moment that I waste

Fixated on the ghosts of progress

Those lost futures that I dreamt