The Will To Outlive The Past

The Will To Outlive The Past


Here amidst the shadows
Of the grey wreckage in my head,
After-images in slow-motion,
Damnation of the dead.
Hunting, hurting, slipping, slurping,
Sliding by the figures,
Nothing ever lingers,
Protruding, daunting, silent, haunting,
In the madness
Of all the past sadness.
You were here, maybe still are,
Nobody knows but me,
I'm reliving, black-n-white non-giving
Of my soul's silent-but-deadly cacophany.
Somebody upsatirs must make the case
For the casket of my three days' grace.
You lay in my memory banks
Of a river filled with stones and sticks,
Dressed like a bride for death
Your ghostly touch still gets in its licks,
And all I'm left with is tears and pain
(Why am I not surprised?),
All I really know
Is I'm here with your ghost,
But only one of us will rise.


June 17th, 2009