Rust

Image found here

Things left unattended

take life

from our procrastination

their procreation

born of our burden

but not our labor

such beauty

makes us wonder

if we ought toil

at all

.

.

.

.

Windows of the Soul

The eyes
tell a tale
or so stated
by the illiterate...

The eyes
only transcribe the heart
in it's native tongue
.
.
.
.

Framed

My frame
of mind
hangs in lopsided grin
on the arterial wall

each pulse
rattles the glass a bit
threatens to rough me
off the nail I drove
through the heart of it
.
.
.
.

Response to Monday Muse

Don't you dare

step aroung my heart

as if it were fragility

defined

as if it were quicksand

and your pleated pants

newly pressed

But dare jump

center deep

crimson your cuffs

and never wash

never

wash
.
.
.

Decked

I woke this morning

to my own gut

moaning like old teak

last nights booze

sloshing cross the bow

and no rudder

.
.
.
.

Full Winter

If only
there was brandy enough...

though in such a storm
as the heart's full winter
even hooch
cannot fire
.
.
.
.

No Reply

How can one reply
to being of such poor
and calloused heart?

I'll bear witness
to my own crimes
in the chambers of my apology
keep sentry
in lifelong penance

reminders
unnecessary
.
.