The Plight Of Tired Hands

"The Plight Of Tired Hands"
2014

Every night before i sleep
I use my tired hands to trace
The spot inside my lonely bed
Where you'd take your rightful place
And i would stare and watch in awe
As you took each graceful breath
Knowing that to keep you safe from harm
I'd introduce myself to death
And I've imagined you alive and still
Glowing like an angel in your form
A sight so pure, the tears I've spilled
Have become a nightly norm
I watch your hair start to slowly fall
So it can kiss the pillowcase
And once I would have envied this,
But now I'm blessed to know your taste
With lips as soft as perfect clouds
It's as if you smile within your sleep
And i fear I'll move and wake you up
So it's my balance I must keep
And as i raise the sheets above your waist
With the hopes to keep you warm
I slowly place your hair behind your ear
As i barely lift my arm
For i need to see your gorgeous face
If I'm to believe it's not a dream
All while knowing deep down inside
I'm so happy i could scream
But instead i hear the rhythm of your breaths
And they seem to form a song
As i recall my wait of over thirty years
Wondering how i survived this long
Without your soft and healing touch
That slowly fixed my frowning face
Or have i truly dreamed you into life
I wonder if this could be the case
If it is, then darling I'm,
Pleading guilty here and now
Cause I've never fell this hard before
And i don't care to answer how
Leave the questions to the scholars, love
Their debates will rage for days
For I barely hear the noisy fan above
As I still stare at you, amazed.
And the window blinds are barely cracked
So the moonlight's pouring in
And I'm struck dumb as I observe
The way it dances off your skin
And i can't help my wanting you
You're just so majestic and alive
That i want to kiss you right awake
And taste the love I've been denied
Then I'll let you get your bearings as,
I kiss my way below your waist
Inching close to paradise
As i move the blankets now with haste
To reveal the amazing legs that hold you up
And I'm compelled to praise them much
But i would rather feel them here and now
And watch you tremble from my touch.

The Whispers Of No One

I have tried for a lifetime
To find some peace of mind
Days are spent like money i've never had
And hours are wasted like a relapsing drunk
Minutes are whores that never stay
Seconds? What the hell are they?
And here I am again.
In a house full of people.
As alone as I've ever been.
Mumbling to myself.
In a quiet, tone-deaf bliss.
With headphones on.
Songs so loud my ears ring between them.
But it doesn't matter.
I'll be deaf one day anyway.
But the reason for the volume
Is as simple as pressing play.
I'm trying to drown out the whispers of no one.
That voice in my mind,
It's haunted me for years.
Preying on my every doubt,
As it quickly amplified my fears.
It reminds me that I am truly broken.
And it laughs because the pieces don't even have the decency to be pretty.
Each one is uglier than the next.
But it doesn't matter.
I'll be dust one day anyway.
I'm in no rush to get there.
Besides, I've been metaphorically walked on before.
And "never again" cried the fool.
But oh yeah,
Please don't confuse the music,
As the soundtrack to a pity party.
For there are no chips and salsa here baby.
No drinks in dixie cups, or people dressed to the nines.
But I probably should have a drink.
And this nine, well he could sure use a sixty.
But I digress.
Yes, I'm a fucking mess.
But who isn't?
I mean it... really...
Anyone? Show of hands?
I didn't think so.
Or maybe the problem is I think too much.
Or maybe I just need sleep.
Comfort in the darkness of night.
On a bed as misshapen as its owner.
Hear that?
The tap-tap-tapping of the keyboard.
The honking horn of an incoherent clown.
Laughing to hide,
The horrors inside,
And the screaming that sounds...
Like the whispers of no one.

Re-Construction

The dam has been reconstructed.
Rebuilt with pieces of hopes and dreams.
Each broken promise is the mortar.
Filling both the gaping holes and seams.
But what does it matter?
The water level is rising.
Ever turbulent are the waves.
Beating down against the tired walls.
But with a foundation this far in place,
The outdated system never caves.
So who is there to blame?
For the crashing sounds calling out
Or for the optimism drowning slow
As I push it's head below the crests
And whisper, "you have much further down to go."
Die slowly, happy thoughts.
Greet the disappointment that you've left.
With a love no soul has ever seen
Just an owner here, both ugly and bereft.
Who are you to judge?
Who are you to stop and stare?
Who are you to pretend and feign a gasp,
Or have the fucking nerve to care?
Be not a witness here,
For blood will stain your hands.
I'm just drowning out the weakness of emotions, dear.
That's what nobody understands.
So leave me here to paint the walls.
And make this dam a mural that can warn,
Everyone. From the pretty to the peasant,
That I hate this entire fucking world today.
And I wish we gods were never born.

So ignore the noises that you hear.
For I have heights I need to reach
Just to escape my emotions' fluid state
In an attempt to clean this wretched, dirty slate.
Yet, I don't expect any sympathy
Or even expect a form of aid
Because my disposition is growing cold
So we can call a spade a spade.