Day into night

some more ramblings

Each breath searing, stumbling in darkness

Infant cries as day turns black as night

And in the dark a plume of crimson towers high

As earthly fury snuffs out all hope with fingers black

that squeeze the throat and blur the eyes

as gods old and new heed not the screams

and turn away and unto fate condemn.

Sharon

Sometimes I see a picture and just …well this just happens.

Perfumed and poised she stares into rich rioja red

painted lips stained darker still and eyes heavy at nights end

Thump of base and lights dimmed low

She remembers, head and heart hunger for his touch

rough hands on soft skin and back arched in blissful bond

though now just a memory and she waits for the last dance

to be held and to feel alive once more

for chance to forget memories of his leaving

because she was a dirty cow and never cleaned her bathroom

Remembering

Just a bunch of words mostly.

At times his mind like treacle thick and black, slow flowing

Of days so laughter filled yet now mere echoes remain and drift

across mist shrouded distant views of vistas once so bright and clear

and to those things he clings yet through frail fingers slip

Forgotten Sepia faces smile back knowingly from curled cornered photos

and in the dark they call his name, voices long forgotten and shut out

and though he turns in search of face familiar

he stands alone and yet

the things he pushes down and back and out of reach they call

reminding him of thoughts dark as pitch and deeds to match

and with covered ears he chooses to forget once more

and into restless silence slips…