Monday, May 23, 2011


Twenty three waking hours
An hour short from a day
Episodal maniac, at play
Writing words to his dismay

Screaming tunes, too loud
Alone and proud
Lingering in a dark cloud
Of puffy smoke and cold coke

Playing along the thoughts
Now, engulfing alcoholic streams
While reminiscing shattered dreams
Of possessive schemes

Then, was a boy
Needy, was a joy
Love was a bloody toy
Hope was his to destroy

Moments like such
Swallowing him too much
Holding the angry crutch
Death comes at a touch

Posted on Facebook: Sunday, March 7, 2010 at 4:35pm

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