Despair is a Bridge

That other side looks good.

If it was really a bridge, it would work both ways, to and fro

But this crossing was built from petulant souls and greedy w***e mongers

In first light, the far side was bright with heavens light and slick with pastry frosting

As afternoon leaked dusks promises, the slim women came out to dance

With breasts like tea cups and cold concrete where lust intersected the tops of thighs

You would whirl and drink of animal craving, your release a devils oasis

When darkness steals the show, black hearts will play with your eyes, look at me

     “Excuse me kind lady, could you direct me to the bridge back to my sanity?”

     “My good man, whatever for?” She lifted her dress exposing a brass doorknocker between her legs.

     “Knock twice dear lad, its hard to hear when reality comes calling.”

One night, one life, crossing to the dim side

I would stay with the thought of only visiting for eternity but, visiting nonetheless

Sliding out now would be like calling the men in white coats

And playing games of chance with men like that is futile when there are no rules

Home is always the other side, I hope you, my love, started from the right.

Author's Note

Its been awhile.

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

What a brilliant, dark journey of the soul... into a wild kind of wanting... a shadowed Wonderland... desires to find the way... the other side... yet lost along the path... Always amazing, my friend.. and so good to have you back around for more...