Take off the glasses

Bombard me with images
Promise to make me complete
Shape my eyes
Contour my cheeks
Highlight my lips
Make me over
Make me complete

Paper over my scars
Discard my pain
Replace my thoughts
Invade my brain

It’s all too easy to erase
Wake up thirty years later
Dying by minutes
Past the sell by date

No road forward but out
Take up the razor
As in youth
Faint lines promise relief

Trapped by this stagnant culture
Burn it down
Burn it down
We all fall

Slow ponderous turning

Shiver in paroxism of pain
Slow turning
Ponderous speech
Siphoned of energy
Giving nothing back
Taking taking taking
No joy in your violence
Storm breaks like dam
Keeping you from your path
Poor storm
Poor spirit
Who did this to you?
How dare they?
Vengeance you take in blood and destruction
Ill served by those who should venerate

Green mold days

Place feels like a cancer
Festering in the nested green
Feeding off of it

Felt malignant and spiteful
A tea kettle hissing
About to boil over

A green rot
Pretty on the surface
Eroding the souls of all who live
Within its borders

It’s no wonder the weather is so wild
It’s trying to stamp out the slow fire