poem #38

Cigarette bones and bear tapped steel

What they don’t know they need not conceal

The fading light of usually bright stars

Is akin to reversing, distancing cars

I promise the pond is no option for me, i’m

Alive and cut hearts that no one can see

The clouded eyes of my love’s only fuel

Contests that i’m cruel and i have no tool

I saw a grey runner sprint from the path

He sought more comfort in the dew glazed grass

The clouds don’t move in the park where i sat

They’re confused by the uphill sea climb flat

So, mr. Conscience with your everpleasing sights

What, please, do i ever do RIGHT?

Why do i feel like i need someone here?

It isn’t as though they could make it all clear

But maybe they could, yes you could, you know

Whether you would? You know where to go