While I lay broken, typically
you rose and walked to the kitchen.
Spilling a bright wake of remembrance.
If such a moment wasn't obvious
I would reach out and walk, again.

Now the sounds of Eagle Rock,
then the tangled thoughts by the bed.
Creased lines crack my shrouded bier.
Forcing an afternoon from vinylly,
sticky and wondering memorium.

Wasted as an afterthought, typically
I crawl and whisper to the glass door.
Opening transparent throated reflections.
Such predictable glistening pours,
would you know me if I bit you?

Whiskey was never my occupation,
unlike me, it is certain of it's fashion.
Stained gauze trails still lead me back.
Meeting together once again, cynically
I would reach out and walk, again.

Now the wreck blossoms from our lawn,
then a razed building speaks up.
Five fingered stars meet a welting scythe.
Finally, I grasp your excised wound,
forever in my mind like childhood.

Now success strains away in strands,
then a man professes to beguilement.
Shoelace blindfolds leave senses agape.
Shallow misfortunes clasped to breast,
I wander in your cool shadow pleading.

Wasps attest to my thick skin, longingly
we step across thresholds bowing.
Scraping new promises with knees bent.
Only a wreck of a man, a cold beer,
I would reach out and walk, again.

In the limned atmosphere I stand,
waiting patiently for a clean trowel.
Assembling pieces glued with new lies.
Strict and soapy deliverance hides
legs long forgotten, still interred.

Your clavicle bends my dusty rain,
away from surgically furrowed breast.
Spilling coins from cupped eyes and mouth.
Awakening our midday travels, gently
against the potential scar, dreaming.

Why am I revived to see such evenings,
where these eyes once soaked in mud?
What fallen leaves blow across our promises?
Then you wrapped me in inky wool, tauntingly
against the failings dribbling from my mouth.