The yard dotted with private ponds begat from Summer rain
Each pool a Universe filled with life we've yet to -
discover or even comprehend* ....

I ride the line of time in circles around my mind, never finding any more than what I'm leaving behind

Punch me,
kick me.
Scream at me in color.
A kaleidoscope of reds and blues swirl around my eyes.
Mute the tones.
I won't speak.
Put a filter on it
and pretend you loved me.

.

Here, as the dark city glistens,
rain pelts unsuspecting sidewalks,
filling cracks and running gutters
Disguising potholes in black,
snickering as they wait silently
to startle the next drowsy driver to pass by

Neon reflects in puddles of discontent
while high rise lights
flicker in kitchens above where
cold water seems to be the answer
as groggy eyes fiddle with leftover decisions
making more noise than can be heard

3 am, desolate, just a few cats
rummage in alleys for unsuspecting rats
and other rodents who have sold their dreams
for a temporary high, plastic bag desires
that come morning will seek revenge
as hands once more will be out promising redemption,
counting brown leather wing tips and Prada heels

I stop at the old library slated for demolition,
tracing the lopsided heart with our initials
that I carved into the brown brick
as you kept a look out so we wouldn’t get caught
Laughing at the dust that gathered on my shoes,
Telling me it would be forever
not the dust, us
(the dust is still there)

Lonely is a state of mind
for those who stagger these concrete caverns,
unable to sleep
Finding opened eyed nightmares
resemble those that they now run from,
hoping the next corner holds the key
to the past when nights were spent
under warm covers, in soft arms,
not walking alone, not dying, not
here, as the dark city glistens

.

Where from this the door now ******,
creaking screams align the mire
Loosened shadows cough the dust
within a world now set afire

Worry gathers in the mist,
along a crooked staircase rise
Nooses hang from rafter’s twist,
while portraits gaze through swollen eyes

Atone the stench of fevers past,
sweat does stream of wallowed reach
From moors the lines of wretched cast
in lessons taught but not to teach

Break this bread in mirrored shards,
slurp your lime serrated drink
Write as if a napkin bard,
any thought with which you think

Last, these days of sorted lanes,
walking chains and lockets bore
Weakness in your heart now claims
of a time you lived before

Stare the darkness now you keep,
forcing out a sad regret
You shall sow the fear you reap
as the night collects your debt