“Years go by, will I choke on my tears ’til, finally there is nothing left?”—–Silent All These Years
Jungle thick and hot and humid, falling into cacophonous night.
The war I went off to fight, never ending, and I am lost from
comrades and allies, in a place where only demons remain.
I dream in my sleep of the woman I left behind, her smile, her laugh,
and I wake with tears in my eyes, knowing I am truly lost, cannot return.
The wreckage of my plane picked clean, hunting and foraging, staying alive.
Why? Why? Why?
The demons howl in the height of day and the depth of night, always.
I run and fight and run and fight and stay ahead, here where demons dwell.
Hiding in the grottos and pits and caves, fitful sleep, bad dreams.
Dreams that draw blood. Dreams that remind of all that is lost.
I dream of her. Of a wedding that will never be. Of a life given up.
The demons are coming and I hide and skirmish and fight.
Staying alive another day. Staying sane another day. Seeing the sunrise.
Why? Why? Why?
She sits in boxers and tank top on the balcony,
smoking a long thin French cigarette, dreading it all.
She takes a measure of peace from his calm and love.
Today, Sophomore year begins, back to college, and noise.
The strips pulling away, another one goes, closer to class time.
Time to get dressed, time to prepare her mind, time to face the world.
The people and chatter and the traffic and hot and merciless sun.
But there’s somewhere she wants to be, so walks through fire and noise.
she says goodbye to her dog, who whimpers after her at the door,
and walks out into a still cool morning, knowing the peace will not last.
The moon keeps it all to herself, keeps it so dark.
The little radio brings news of the war, of aliens.
Then there’s music for lovers and no heart to dance.
tells of the changing fortunes, the burning cities, plains.
I make a goddess of that voice, the only sweet thing here.
I imagine kissing those lips, and starting over with her here.
I wandered city to city, looking for peace, I find it my kind’s death.
The night soothes me, the stars are quiet, and so is my broken head.
I have a picture of a woman. I pretend it’s a wife killed by the flames.
She sings a worthless hymn, to a dream that drew blood from my tears.
It’s still beautiful, but I turn away from her, and wait for the endless life
that leaves me in the empty forest, a useless paradise where Adam eats nothing.
by the grey rain clouds pulling a blanket over it.
The air chilled me in my thin jacket, defenseless
against the cold that come with the day’s dreams.
In this city there is no damp, musty earth to remind
you of the dirt from which you once rose up, and will
return to again.
nearly shaking me off my feet. The cries of the
breaks howl it’s rage at the cold, wet world.
How I envy it’s sounded fury against the world,
when I have to keep all my pain deep down inside.
There’s a suitcase at my feet, but none can carry a life.
My world is over here, and now I must begining again.
clusters of big, lush trees, the odd animal gazing back.
The rain keeps coming but nothing is ever cleaned again.
Nothing, not sacred blood, can wash our sins away.
If I sleep, I’ll dream, dream of things that hurt me now.
Maybe I’ll read about some happier person in another world.
Maybe I’ll manage to keep away the tears.