Death's kiss, with all of it's surgical precision, cannot wash away your scent. Sweet burnt marshmallow pooled in the final sands of the hourglass - a tar to keep the coffin sealed. Stale espresso left in the morning dew whispers that it tastes the same - a brew far more bitter than the lonely truth.
Walking in the shadows of your footprints Trying to pretend I can see you still Hoping I just might Knowing I won't. Wishing the trail leads somewhere final Fearing there's an end Hiding from the present Abandoning the past.
Stumble and dive we just turned five - each of us hold a balloon. Run down the hall stumble and fall - scraping our knees before noon. Slide on some socks build static shocks - zapping each other with grins. Act like a brat slide on the mat Carpet burn stings on our shins. Wearing our shoes nothing to loose we call out our parents bluffs We ruin the lawn now wearing a yawn - our memories sketched in shoe scuffs
Bite me beast. Feel this saccharine smile melt the rotting gum beneath the teeth in the same ringing, rusted tone as the "I told you so" that was never said. Bite me! See how fast the slack jaw snaps back to sink a saddened sully into your sore shoulders. Feel the teeth vibrate against the muscle - adrenaline promised you taste best when the meat is tender, so with open mouth, I'll knead the submission back into your rebellion. Bite. Me. Beast Savour the silence of shock, for that bite only ends in a wrath of stars: striking to transfix the minds eye, and feigning relief to hide a shattered grin.
The day and his hunger filled son, feast on the night's decay. Dark rituals are spun as famine comes to play. The night and her valiant daughter, stand facing dimmer light. O' sweet moon lit slaughter may the morn end day's rite.
Just when early fear arrives, famished: feasting on abundant insecurity, hope whispers loudly to break free! Destroy the doubt.
Howling wild in thick forest trees ready to fade to ash and dust. Burn out bright flame.
One step, my love. One more step. Oblivion waits impatiently for your caress.
Bent toes cling to the surface that might fall. Do I stand upon the ground or the wall? Swaying in gentle breeze I brace to plummet fast, but land with grace if this dream deems me unworthy. Clouds stream with torrential echoes of doubt that nourish my inner progressions drought. The grip of untrodden steps fails - I wait to land upon the shales But fall upward into the stars. Free floating among the weightless moonlight, I look below with more pleasant hindsight. I was bound in scared appeasement - Now fear suffers a bereavement as I cross into my own light.
Evening sea washed aboard a tired man and his sword. I didn't ask his name. He didn't ask the same. He just stared blank at me then fell back to the sea.
The Poet Armistead 