Wither Like the Grass

One thin man climbs the hill, slipping and sliding as he steps on boulders, grunting as his body hits the ground once again. With the last of his strength, he crawls to the top, and stands staring into the black depths of the water so far below him.

As he falls through the air, a sunbeam bounces off the sea below, and makes a halo around his smooth head, and his wrinkled face. He calls out, in one last fleeting, flying prayer, the soulless roar of a man who earned and fought, but never lived. The hollow cry of a creature who abstained from love.

A Long Night

With eyes tight shut
I turn on my memory.
Open the boxes
I'd closed in my mind.

Trace with my fingers
The lines of your face.
Search through reflections
And try hard to find

The feelings I had
When I first saw you standing.
Arms strong, in the meadow
With dirt at your feet.

But time lumbers on
Anasthetic, and heartless
Erasing your features
The bitter, the sweet

Are all gone, and I feel such a stifling peace
As I open my eyes and give up, find release.

Weary Fate

While the sounds of the city thrum and pulse through my head, I gather up the shards of my dignity, and stumble to another hole, another meal, another little bag of joyless bliss.