Anticlimax

There's nothing like spending so long preparing for a journey that you don't have time to actually step out the door.

There was once a time

Was once a clime

Where one might breathe

Might dream to shine

But time can wane

And climes may change

And shine is lost

And breathing strained

So fail it must

And fall astray

And shiny dreams

Shall rust away

While in the hand

Of one who breathed

Of one who shone

Of one deceived

Of one who strove

Who dreamed and soared

Lies only flesh—

There is no more.

The Books Close

And after all
My hopes
And aspirations
I am here
With what I have.

Don't look too close
Or think too hard
Lest you discover
That all the world
And all of us in it
Are nothing more
Than empty shells
With holes
For the wind
To blow through.

Crash

Whatever we build,

   However high,

      Sturdy

          Or magnificent,

     Can

        crumble

   to

            nothing

                      At a breath.

                               Death’s stroke is swift

                               And unexpected.

Alone

Maybe

The World

  Has

Already

Ended

And You

  Just

Didn’t

Notice.

Never Learn

Belief is

A doorway

To disappointment

And yet

I keep

Believing

In things

Like

Myself.

Weakling

Having

Shaken off

The chains

At last,

That afternoon

I folded up

My wings
And put them
In a box.

Smile

I dream of the one

Who will never come.

I just

   Created

       A world

    And left it

     With you.

               If I ever

                  See it

                     Again

               I will know

            Completion.

     But I doubt it.

Imagine

Imagine
The realization
That Life
Is a total
Waste
Of Time

   And yet

   It's all
   We
   Have.

The Future

i feel like i am sliding into something very dark and deep

that i am not going to be able to climb back up out of.

God

God,

Don’t human beings

Do anything

Good?

   But who else

   Is there

   To do good

   Except us?

Everything else

Just does

What it does.

   Perhaps

   We’re just

   The same.

Or perhaps

That’s just

And excuse

For inaction.

His life ended years ago.

He sits on the fringe of the abyss,

swirling around and around a black hole.

He is caught,

unable to move back,

but terrified to move forward.

All that lies ahead is the end.

For years, he has been a ghost.

For this is what ghosts are—

the shambling spirits of those whose lives have ended,

but fear to pass on to the next world.

So he spirals and spirals,

never changing,

never taking the next step,

because that step will doom him.

Fist

I am

In control

Of everything.
God damn me to hell.

I Give Up

There
Is a void
Between today
And the grave

Why bother
To try to
Fill it?

The void is
By definition
Infinite

You couldn't help me

You couldn't help me

I'm so sorry

I never even let you

 Know that

  Everything

   Wasn't

  Perfect

   How could you have helped me?

   It's not your fault

Doh.

Senses cut,

Life stalled:

Hide me

From myself.

When my eye

Looks upon me

At last,

Thunderbolts will fly.

All That Needs To Be Said

If only life

Were a better thing

Than it is.

The Way Out

We're done.
We're done.
You don't need me any more.
We're done.