Death and loneliness abounds

in the tiniest of spaces.

With the death of every moment

time finds itself alone because

everything that is becomes a was.


Meandering about there axes,

we interpret life as a passage of time

when perhaps, time is the passing of our lives.

The sinewy hour hands are always stretched for an embrace

but we walk all over it in disdain.


like they were petals on the street

or the calling of our soul.

Many summits and valleys are seen

in this short hike, but not all are meant to

be jumped from or slept upon.


In each of us, there is a profound sorrow,

lying right next to unbridled joy,

making love behind closed doors –

doors that we never open,

doors that are invisible to our eyes


that seek only what is outside.

You are what is left of you

when all your desires have come true.

You are what is left of you

when all your memories have faded away.


You are light, looking for it’s

own shadow.

You are silence trying to listen

to its own sound.

You are death looking for unconditional love.


You are a lonely, lonely little shit

amongst lonelier littler shits.

Now c’mon, the coffee’s stopped dripping

and the bacon’s stopped sizzling.

What else could you possibly want?


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