passion in the middle age?

can we freeze time, then
and while we're at it
ourselves
on ice
in an embrace
not so much passionate
as understanding
or forgiving
accepting
and
after all
isn't that passion
in the middle age?
betrayed
by too much
time
wasted
noise
distractions
making plans
oh yes
and we've found ourselves
lost
in spite of everything
in spite of us
and the best intentions
conceived of love
of passion
forged from youth
in all of its incompleteness
and yet
perfection.
we were idealists once
but to freeze ourselves
in a moment
in time
in youth
could never hold a candle
to the flawed wreck
no one could ever call perfection
but is love
our love
our one and only.

running scared

you are beauty
made visible
something to touch
wrap my arms around
whisper
i love you
more than myself
i'll give you
all of me
if you just love me
back
and yet
when i open my eyes
you are gone

the f*ck up

are you free
if you don't know it?
are you free
if you don't know how to show it?
she came to him
like a rapture
on the descending side
of his middle age
light years away
from the start
of the descent
propped him up
to see
for the first time in decades
the beauty of hope
and of possibilities.
he followed her
as if she was a guide
for the blind
believed her words
of compassion for others
and endeavoring to heal
universal suffering
like he was twenty-something.
he was a sucker
and he knew it
but he didn't care
willfully blind
in hoping to gain salvation
if not love
heal others
to heal himself
oh
but the day she left
like a cool breeze
vanished
he lost his tenuous faith
in everything
in himself
he was clutching at substance
desperate
but when he leaned down
he rested on shadows
and she flew away
like a bird
with a higher calling
he is
as he always was
free
but then why
does he f*ck up everything?

stillblind

she breathes
in my ear
then giggles
sweet somethings
that open my eyes
yet still i see a blur
poor vision
to obscure the dark
inside of me
or is it all over
starts
ends
what matters
beyond the smile i offer
my gift to you
appease you
"i love you"
but from within
i know they are laughing
"you fool..."
they slap knees
and bob in their seats
"give enough
to get what you want,
you fool..."
dressed in black
on the inside
i open my mouth
in the mirror
to shine a light
make them go away
but she giggles
sweet somethings
i feel nothing
"say you love me,"
i say i do.

the violent hour

her dreams
in a trickle
out the corner
of her mouth
sleep may take her
places
where reality is stretched
but it is never broken
the inevitable reflection
will steal her glance
sneer
"you are you
with nowhere to run"
here comes her man
again
the one to ignore her
lost in his thoughts
that never amount to anything.
the thought on a friend
who never calls anymore
"life gets in the way"
says the friend
and "i know you understand"
but she doesn't want to
she never wanted
to give in
she just got sucked
hard
and down so low
she can't get out.
it's only age
flushing down behind her
rushing down to take her
further and further away
from all hope
all that was held
sacred
by her years as a child
her apprenticeship
that turned out to be her life
her only life
that amounted to anything.
she coughs
doesn't cover her mouth
f*ck it
she spits phlegm
into her pre-arranged plot
in the cemetary
you know
the place beneath the neon sign
"where memories rest in peace"
even if she'd sooner die
than remember
any of this.

the ground beneath one's feet

the grass
was never asked
to close its eyes
to the sun
as it was being buried
by the falling leaves
in time
the grass
would live for its memories
as its breaths
would grow shorter
like a winter's day
the grass
it did clamor
toward the blades
still kissed by light
as a proud mother
to her child
but in time
the grass
grew weary
and began to collapse
living
then slowly dying
in the agonizing expectation
that one leaf
then another
would soon fall
to cover its wistful eyes
first one
then the other
slowly die
without even knowing it
slowly die
not living
not loving
not laughing
afraid
of the inevitable
paralyzed
made a vegetable
picked
from the earth
a leaf
raked then bagged
grass
mowed and mulched
never really alive
oblivious
just used
like toilet water
like people

the rules of the game

she sits
sketching
something
by the window
darkness overwhelms
the conceding light
and so she sits
sketching
something
in darkness.
she could win
hearts
applause
or a firm position
in the machine
if only she knew the rules
of the games.
she could win
if sitting
sketching
by the window
were not an option
infinitely more inviting
and less demanding.
she loses
in the eyes of everyone
but she never even entered
the game
she sits
sketching
a life more lived
than her reflection
taking form
on the window
like morning dew
compliments of night.
she could win
but she doesn't want to know
what that means.

this is where i get off

i get off
when the world stops
spinning
hitch a ride
with a girl in the moon
free
like wind
of destinations
of ends
that are only beginnings
of the same cycle
again
let me feel
anything
something to sustain me
beyond the moment
i get off
in my dreams
but i never remember
the feeling

flesh for fantasy

in the haunted mansion of her mind
her beauty is rapturous
she thinks so
because this is what men tell her
with mouths wide open
one hand in their pockets
the other useless
like men
heads spinning
in the rush of desire
and dominion
she is sadder than happy
and happier than sad
all at once
a victim
tormentor
a waif
dominatrix
different masks
to suit their wants
her needs
or their needs
her wishes
and yet
to the horror of all
there is no face
behind any of the masks.