karma

You know I don't want
to hurt you

but I have to go
for the kids you know

for the kids.

I just can't take anymore of
your letting me sleep late

letting me sleep till you walk in the door.

I am sorry
do you understand.

it's just
i don't remember
lying naked

pills in my head
wrapped in plastic
drunken screaming

ambulance drives

escapes from
your psychs office

mandatory commitments
i did try to knife you once

and i am sorry about
all those times i left
but hey

it was because
I just could not stay

intubated where you worked

kinda forget the last 15 years. only know that

I'm not able to have you
around you know

I'm not trying to hurt you
only just go you must.

the kids will understand

you are what happens
when a burn out becomes

husband and father

all used up
nothing left to give
but just a little more

huh
just a little more
oh you need to watch the kids
be a part of their life

well that is
whats right
yeah you know
they still need you

OK
bye now

when morning comes

when morning comes
people will have died
reality as such
will have cried it's
last tear and
we will be left
with a large gaping
hole where once we
knew that when morning
comes the sun would
be golden and the
people would dance
and cheer where
babies sucked
on mum's
breast
and fear and loathing
where only smoky
wisps on a patch of
green and none
could know
the icy hand
of death
when morning
comes

memories and whispers

whispers breeze
fluttering by on
satin lies told
when young and
each day was won
tickles and hugs
of gentle moments
in the sun
these are things
that memory brings
when sitting alone
drinking in that last
memory, savoring it's
purity,
rolling it around your teeth
cross velvet tongues
and ruby lips
praying that this
memory would never end
fallen enthralled maybe comatose
towards a brief respite
an ominous portend
of hellish days and wintry nights
which do blend, ascend and
transcend normalcy
only to have memory
rescind my lonely trend
and disavow my
lady friend
sweet memory
of long dead things
driving me towards
an insane end

emptiness

sitting in the corner of my
dark and empty room
the walls begin to reach
out as the ceiling bends low
gently brushing my tormented
sweaty brow
steadily without
skipping a beat hear i
the most precious sound
the whisk whisk whisk
of my mental push broom
trying hard to forget
that beauty is laying dead
raspy breathing
sticky sweet the
drip drip drip
of my brain dropping out
my eyes do close as i
reach to touch
your full and
succulent lips
a skipping does
occur, the mind
does betray
struggling all
aquiver, hands
reaching through
the fog for the last
chance now past
drops skittering
into the cobwebs
in the corner of my mind.