With a white satin napkin
He wiped away his pride
That’s it my Lord, my Savior
What more have I to hide?
The pills induced his coma
His blood ran thin with wine
His revelation managed
By the nurse’s over-time
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With a white satin napkin
He wiped away his pride
That’s it my Lord, my Savior
What more have I to hide?
The pills induced his coma
His blood ran thin with wine
His revelation managed
By the nurse’s over-time
Oh, how the light
Always manages
To see through
The dark.
It’s much easier to lie
in the afternoon light,
steady’s the humming
bird that takes flight.
Oh whispering wind
forgive me tonight,
how flirting with death
has been a delight.
We went from public displays of affection
Straight to public displays of everything
Now leaving nothing to the imagination
Embracing it all, then apologizing for it after.
It’s like some convoluted social stream of consciousness
That forms a figure eight of disingenuous pandering
One which tastes to a choir of social unrest
Like change, its value null, when in reality it’s all just
As sad and dull as high school sex.
The allure of hanging
Like an old-timey suit
Is just that.
Poetry for the waste-bin,
Ready for the Goodwill.
The Raven waits
My answer’s no
Then leaves me with
His knowledge
People always wanted you to be yourself,
except when you did, well
they didn’t like it all that much.

One day
When ready
I’ll tell you a story.
A story of a boy
Who never stopped running.
I’m just not ready
To break your heart.
The more I looked the more I noticed
people defending their freedom to speak—
when in fact it seemed and showed so clearly—
from their trembling hands to their worried eyes—
that they had given up their freedom to think for themselves—
and became defenseless, bold, and unexplainably proud—
having lost their voice long before it could ever be taken.

Wind Chimes float—
With effortless ease—
It’s something we—
Could never quite be—
Two souls swirling
In the restless ear of want.
