Do you have all that you need?
Or do you still feel the bleed of the cut?
Blood rich-thick iron-rich; it will kill you in the end.
The end never does come tho; the future indefinite.
Others have hope. How they hope, hope, hope.
I move through this thick grief
unknown to them relief comes in a chalky pill,
a white tablet wafer of a once communion –
the breaking of which left you raw-knuckled, bruised from the fight of the flight.
How hard you tried to hold on.
It’s a do or die thing, isn’t it.
Love has no middle-ground, no beaten trail despite the many who came before
we all are unique in our love to the last,
it causes us to cut through the heavy swath of the mind’s kudzu,
that wormy vine that takes strangle-hold of the heart
until you become two on one journey through a deep, dark wood.
Love’s playground, no Playland, Rye, despite the steep rollercoaster, drop, high.


Nothing, no-one, compares.
I seek  him now in the ether.
Follow Diogenes’ bright light, some cynic I
If he hides, hides, why must you seek, seek?
Childhood’s hell never did end.

You will never him now.
The days the heart’s time-suck,
minutes slipping through the fingers.
Your palms tell the tale: seek seeker.
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