Looking out on the old estate
seems nothing here has changed:
Needlework, fine tapestries
of battles way back - when?
Do they tell of hopeless friends
- more casualties of war
Than raw recruits whose minds are shot
- of bastards on the take,
Of strychnine, vim, of fake
and passing happiness, but really just escape
From mundane lives and pointless jobs
(for those with jobs to hate)
And ...

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unheard n invisible, 
condemned w/ no chance to defend,
innards ripped out, 
broken w/out a second thought. 

but none of it matters.
you're worth the pain.

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It's been so long I'd forgotten.
"Ups and downs" can hardly describe
The abyss that greets each lacklustre word,
The endless self-analysis,
The whining and whinging that only serve
To push you still further toward indifference.

My fantasies have crashed headlong,
Breaking on the spindle point
As hope skids eternal back and forth,
Each up, each down, a mountain peak
Unyield...

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My cowardice astounds me
In the face of certain death,
When maybe she's the best of friends
For those in pain and short of breath
Who count the sighs til morphine drip
Is once again replaced at noon
And muffled cries the silence rip
And life remains forever,
Sundered.

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"I am the light that shines twice as bright,
The sword that cuts twice as deep
The running water that heals the wound
The dappled shade that offers calm."
 
Yet light is none too bright,
Illumines none too well,
And though it tries, it hardly serves
To push the darkness back at all.
 
And so it is with memory,
For though I try
I can't recall
Your face as first I saw yo...

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