So you
You made it through the fall of grace
Summers winter dressed in black lace
The moonless sky
The wine gone sour
Your crimson fade –
Your last hour
Were you
Contemplating philosophers
Chasing lines that became blurs?
The well ran dry
The soil turned dour
Your veins… your canvas –
A blood red flower
Drowning in your self created obscurity
Wallowing in your false poetic misery
Reflection in a crystal pool of impurity
Gulp perverse like it’s a fizzy tea…
I opined
Eyes shining backward; It wasn’t you
Sprawled on the floor with your soul askew
Retching demons
At the eleventh hour
Too late… those veins –
A blood red flower
And history through the magnifying glass
Blown up like balloons in a circus parade
Put your mess in order love!
Gather your words that taunt sweet dreams
Rhetoric, sentiments, explanations, expletives –
Nonsensical cigarette ribbons in stale air
Stitch your wounds with barbed thread and wire
Stop pulling ghosts from your wretched seams
I paused
Watched you in your garden pondering
The gears grinding in your mind wandering
Stench of illusion
The weeds devour
Merlot veins… like wicked rain…
A blood red flower
Theater of Sorrows 