...

that which is left unsaid,
says more,
or so they say,
than that which is,
and in honor of that,
how,
what,
when, and
why,
will always remain unsaid,
and in honor of those.
there are no answers here,
only questions,
need-want,
for an end,
that will someday be, and
reality,
that will someday cease.

...

and simply because.
there need be,
no more reasons,
for this insanity,
here is another.

this simply is,
like the tears, and
the lack, of hopes
of continuing,
boredom.

meaningless, purposeless,
seeking, however
beyond that burning tip,
that can only hurt,
until yesterday.

...

will you cry?
if I die?
will the world end?
or just mine?
will you wait with bated breath?
as I walk that thin line?
between sane and insane?
will you push me overboard?
or pull me safe?
will you laugh?
with me as I laugh the insane laugh?
will you clap your hands?
with me at the world?
with the world at me?
will you sympathize?
or will it be empathy?
do you have an answer?
to all these?
will you cry?
when I die.

...

those vehement denials,
mean nothing,
to a question,
as yet,
unasked.

and as such,
denials, are
for the truth, bitter
questions,
they are,
not.

knowledge,
however,
taunts,
judging,
relentlessly, without
question.

...

these scars speak,
an entirely different story,
on(c)e removed from the lovely strands,
those lonely strands,
on the kitchen floor,
beseeching an explanation.

those that feel, and
perceive,
with wonder,
(but never question),
need no answers,

those that see, and
question,
without wonder,
(but never perceive),
need no answers, either.

...

will
who
where
when
remain

will
who
where
when
always
remain
more

than why?

what
remain
will
always
be

what
remain
will
always
be
inexplicable
elusive

answers?

...

if,
silence, is
golden,
why, is
oblivion.

...

this cannot be,
what it is,
what has come to be,
motionless,
meaningless,

disparate words,
bound together,
deserving an end,
begging another,
almost…

...

there cannot always be an end,
a punchline,
sometimes, (sometimes)
things are,
what they are,

much like the blues,
and possible sunshine,
only allowing,
a myopic view,
of where happiness lies,

in acceptance,
of the blues,
the grays,
and possible reality, (I surrender)
today.

...

i have a love.

at once magical, and
mundane,
for life,
and the(n),
not so much,
the everyday,
and the(n),
intriguing,

where will it end ?

the end, however
will be the beginning,
be it now, or
never,
no ever,
never,
now and ever,
never.

...

over and over again,
I repeat,
the same,
over and over again,
I hope,
the same,

does it mean more,
when said often,
does it mean more,
when said less?

does it bore?
over and over again?
does it matter?
over and over again?

do we listen less?
to the oft repeated word?
do we listen more?
to those unsaid?

hope,
happiness,
tomorrow,
dreams,
love,
faith,
and,
that,
what,
ever,

do they matter more?
or less?

more or less?

...

through your patchwork quilt,
i gaze,
on happiness,
laughter and smiles,
once lived,
already forgotten,
but for these brief squares,
cloaking,
all that is,
was, and all that
never will be,
of possibilities,
of realities, and
the possible realities,
and the impossibility,
of this,
here,
fantasy.

...

the deepest questions,
well forth in ambiguity,
swathed in doubt,
dripping in loathing,

self remains meaningless,
worth discarded,
esteem in misguided quests,
and off-handed brush-aways,

seeking my mirror,
guilt framed,
of deception,
and answers,

half-truths,
lies,
and maybe then,
the possibility, of a

tomorrow.

...

meaningless words, mimic
depthless thoughts, mirror
shallow living, desire
profound end,

tuneless, and
voiceless, and
forsaken, and
death,

of a song bird,
without conjunctions.

...

your eyes,
speak,
volumes,
insincere,
shallow,
irreverent,
beguiling,
and yet,
i surrender,
unwillingly,
willing,
a streak,
of need (perhaps),
perhaps,
even (with my),
lust (and my),
wanting,
approval,
of this, and
of all,

of me.

...

there may be,
answers,
after all of you,
has been erased,
from this mind,

the possibility of you,
across the street,
around the corner,
a decade,
from that image,

captured vividly,
astonished, agonized,
acknowledging,
the possibility, of
this barren psyche,

the impossibility,
of like,
of love,
then,
there,

but maybe, not
forever...

...

this may be all there is,
this winding road has met its premature end,
in the sunset,
over a cliff,

having exhausted all that was,
of hope, of anger,
of laughter,
and those tears,

there is nothing left,
to do, but to give in,
a deep breath,
a long dive,

but there is no end to be found,
in denial,
in the allure of those relentless waves,
in the deep dive off the shallow edge,

and i am left here,
in my own company,
wrangling with this wretched living,
this existence,

yesterday, today and
maybe tomorrow.

...

that pilling sweater?
those brown cords?
that book?
those shoes?
that smile?
those eyes?
the scar that your laughter seared?
the walks on the moonlit beach?
the trek to the mountain top?
those lazy afternoons?
and the stormy nights?
that embrace?
the love?
and that lust?
the want?
and the need?

I have none of those, left
to remember you by.

this is all there is,
this empty place.

these meaningless words, and
the mangled silence.

...

there is no respite here,
crouched in the shadow of your words,
afraid to read ahead,
fearing the future,
actions imitate words,
reality thoughts,

mind read,
and read again,
dog-eared,
tattered,
bent, and
yellow,

thoughts captured,
in black and white banality,
some gray,
abundant red,
mocked,
discarded

and i sit here,
with the faint ringing of the distant bell,
foretelling, foreboding,
preserving, persevering,
this reality,
this fantasy,

this fantastic reality.

...

this view of the past,
the elegy of opposites,
has run its course,
there being nothing left,
to view,
ponder,
mourn …

i remain now,
as a clean slate,
yearning to be filled,
with memories,
only to turn around,
a decade from this place,
awaiting more, awaiting anew,

there is no new tune to this sad lyric,
no reason for one,
until there is no me,
looking to the past,
to you,
living that memorable failure,
that failed reality,

that beginning to this end.