water

remember the old
days? life through rose colored glass.
was the grass greener?

find that simple place.
where the long days hug warmly.
life lived in moment.

the missing children.
the poverty of our soul.
small faces should smile.

the mute steady face.
the stiff upper lip unfurled.
a dour portrait.

the body is scraped thin.
i am stretched taut.
my frame is made herse
my voice remains terse.
but my vellum is thin
and dusted by ages of chalk.
blood is my ink.
veins are my quill.
this life written out
on this papery skin.
my voynich manuscript
never decoded.
the song of my soul
never sung.
i stretch ever more
towards the sun.
the lunarium thinning
my skin tight as a drum.
and still my tale unseen
the thrum of my song
dead to the ears.
the long living of
the years, the years.
the end of my rope
frayed and unraveling.
the journey i’m on
just about done traveling.
the lunarium a crescent.
my lunacy now nascent.
i nick my aorta and
from the last inky dribble
i quickly scribble.
i was here
didn’t you hear?

the goal is so far.
the journey never ending.
life from the rear view.