Rapture

Do you fear?
Do you fear as I do?
That quicksand in my stomach,
at the very thought:
disease stricken bodies,
torn flesh in the cracks of our teeth.
And I fear,
that warm hum of silence,
as the world stops turning,
dilapidated buildings, crumbling statues,
withering, decaying, failing.
And I fear,
that last slow hollow emptying of air,
from lungs that once raised the chests,
of young men and women,
the blue faces, purple lips, and shut eyes,
six foot holes, steel bins, toe tags.
And I fear,
to come to two paths,
and choose poorly,
to look back and find that I have changed,
or to see that I have not changed at all.
So I ask, Do you fear?
Do your fear as I do,
of broken hearts and limbs,
of long dirt naps,
or following wrong paths,
so much so that you forget,
to ever live at all.

"The best pace is a suicide pace, and today looks like a good day to die." -Steve Prefontaine

Write something that is true to yourself. Sing something loud, so everyone can hear. I will be better, I can be better, or I'll die trying.

In the midst of midnight mornings blush,
powdered cheeks of rainbow dust,
starlight's distance gaining lust,
to the coast, boom or bust.

Market Street

I've seen your face in that passing car before,
it seems so familiar and inviting,
I wonder about your past, your present, our future.
I've slept and seen you in my dreams,
ever so lovely, beautiful, marvelous,
and yet you soon become distant brake lights,
into the edges of twilight's oblivion.
Love is quick, and passes with every moment.

Mother Mercy

And so all things I love do fade,
The vibrancy's that once brought joy
to life's inconsistencies now wilt with falls flowers into winters clutch,
choked by the lung stinging breath of her ice cold chill.
hope, no longer young man, as time will catch us all.