Crusader

I unscrew my top
and let the garbage fall out.
true north.
unaccountable movements
follow me home
for the days where late nights
weren't long enough to interpret
the length of time ive been drifting in circles
cutting holes in the floorboards
possessed by turned stomachs
and the ghosts lost at sea.

Family photos are elevated
above eye level
looking over my life list.
on my knees praying
if could make it just this once
just one more time
if i could just do it again
would i do it right
or find a path to turned down lights
and weightless feet.

I hold myself down
weighted by the baggage of a thousand
lifetimes of predecessors
predictions
and post dated letters.

The panic and hysteria is a constant
sound like a plane full of psychics
who dont make it home
and cant give a fuck
so they roll the ball and let fortune
slide into the pilot seat.
being fortunate wasnt a life skill i acquired

The ants in my belly
bite deep being consumed by honey
of a better tomorrow
looking forward
walking the balance beam over shark tanks
with a blindfold
a stiff breeze
and a comical banana peel.

The moment comes and passes.

My ears hit a hollow sound,
i cant sense the heart beat
the earth used to pulse beneath my feet
sending electric current into my dying battery
now i come close to digging my own grave
on a month to month basis
over exaggeration isnt in my repertoire
of human functions.

We sit on the roof tops
of this undeserving city
watching cars bleed into
the afterglow of the next morning mist.
holding on tightly
to things that curse our eyelids
like the phantom in the movie theater
playing the old reels
about the legendary moments
where the world was options
instead of slammed doors.
how it must hurt
to miss an ugly exterior.

We live with the choices we make
and the bad taste in our mouths
are just testaments to the flavor
of the way we used to be.

a body in the desert
is a gift to the sky
and the land is the witness of
the great communion
as it consumes a pound of flesh
and pulverize bone
leaving
an ending
fit for a king.

i am alive again.

--

I was always good
at seeing into the distance.
the self doubt
from the lighthouse
where the day wind came calm
and the pages of time
a page or two more.

I bite my lip
Growing a little older.
Growing old.

I can see everyone i know
and how the road bends
forks and dead ends.
but i cant see myself

Do I
feel afraid?
the loss of life
the final embrace
the unknown train ride
i would take anywhere
for you.

in this life
i roll the dice keeping faith
in the leaps i take.
landing hard and broken.
soft and unspoken
drifting out the backdoor
gone like a bandit

i imagine the place...
a dark cave waiting
at the end of it all
for people i know
thick in the blackness
warm or cold
burning or blissful
absent or absolute.

The question rolls around my attic
as i trace the memories of the first time
i took a ride alone.

The sleeping giant tumbles to the earth
out of his perch
in slow motion the broken bottles
cushion the fall.
The taste in my mouth
how it tasted to be alive

rubbing rabbits feet
clover rover afternoon park loner
sipping tea under a tree
blind to life
i see nothing
and i walk with boundless feet
the fool
sees the world
fast as light.