I used to bury my weekday twilights
in an aluminum coffin
lined with December's and May's
dreams and clouded witicisms
would trickle out
like dew setting in the morning
& I would fingerpaint them
In my memory's margins
just passing notes
going through the movements
like fifth grade first dates
until that
criterion collection half-moon
it may've been a full moon
just clouded a bit,
i couldn't take my eyes off of it
but couldn't take it all in, either
after I heard half-truths
muffled behind a cage of tears
...
"I see you"
Nobody can see me through the phone?
...
a despondent Grandfather clock
twisting his skinny whiskers a bit
could've been twenty years
I learned to cherish, I learned to love
I learned about the downward spiral
I learned everyone is addicted to something
so I would embrace
a new panorama
High-definition
"one death, get one free"
Ha, it's an easy sell
with a harp like that in the background
with new skin
and learned pupils
I observed maxim's
stacked between Maxim's
and People.. I saw people
stacks of funhouse mirrors
sad clowns juggling guilt and grief
some had met the Minatour
others had stowed away in the labyrinth far too long
others still, bore crests of defiance
a modern Knight's Templar
everyone has their spirit ripped apart some way
I realized some men dig holes deeper
taking a grain of sand out, bit by bit
as to ignore the true size of the abyss
Lost souls would
Spray-paint mausoleums
Disguised designer dejection
I believe that I saw
a gentle Frost set on the path before me
as I took out a pen and pad
everyone has an addiction
& old habits die hard
so I etched your face
in metaphor and rhymes
Can't find the right words
Never found passion in rhyme
It's just: I miss you
maybe I'll build up a stronger tolerance
but for now
this will have to do.