Last dance of the bee in the chilling autumn

Words slip out promising blood and lust
Naked lies wander into mouths
Taking residence in sleep murmured dry tongue dreams
Eyes dry heavy ponderous
Eyelids closing against bags packed for undetermined future
The only certainty is that I’ll be there to second guess each maneuver
So sure in the daylight on the road to another me
Until days wind down
One mask slips while another rises and whose to say which if any is real
Or is it only in transition where no expectation pulls that I am free to explore a self grown tired of racing from one hope to the next
Blurring time
Lost years
Reclamation tastes bitter when you find that what could be has passed by
And only what is remains

Outdistance the possibility of good

That simple smile holds back despair
That cold drink saying everything is a lie
Not even a lie
Told to be kind
But instead masks the malice of never wanted
Smiling faces
Facade drip blood
Broken branches
Nothing of the me that was remains
Only memories which fade and die
Losing coherence until only a dull ache
Remains to make eyes see
Nothing works
Not even love
And only the steep slide into oblivion
That slow churning slip into disappearance
Presents as solution

May your journey find a road

I didn’t sleep last night. I can feel the weight of those lost hours bearing down on me. But I chose this, to stay up. And watching the clock, saying that old mantra, “If I go to sleep now, I’ll get 2 hours, get 90 minutes, get 20 minutes, get some caffeine and hope I don’t fall asleep while driving”. Then I read my email. I usually only check a couple of times a day. Because I receive a bunch, most of it junk. But like gold from silt rise the words of the blogs I follow. There really aren’t that many. I have a criteria where I have to like 3 pieces to follow them. That insures that they have my attention and time. And I read some posts and like and comment, in my sleep deprived brain zombie state. And I see someone’s blog has gone private. Someone who I like. And maybe this is the sleep deprivation or that I’ve been watching Legion, but I have this brief image of this guy dressed in black just thousand yard staring into the distance. And I know that’s me. And you know people have reasons, generally good reasons for going private, but I always hear Morgan Freedman’s speech from Shawshank Redemption ending with, “I guess I just miss my friend.” Sleep deprived me can be maudlin. But no less true. It’s like a light winking out in the firmament. And my universe is a little dimmer.