Walk

Walk.

Trust your scampering feet.

Don’t run. They’ll know, they’ll know

you aren’t one of them. Scary movies

have it right. Sounds stir the darkness,

light abates the frenzy of the night.

Eyes dead, they glean the life

straying from your breath,

search your soul for the erratic

sprakle of humanity; something

they lost in the pyre of existence.

And you,

you’re still human. Watching the

tremors of madness shifting

in caustic winds; swirling carnage

trapped in the havoc of conviction.

They don’t.

And for that, they despise you.

Ravaging the torments of time,

they hunt you.

Keep walking.

Linger

Is it too early to embark on a reverie

of longing; dawn envelopes my being,

cradled in silence, bluesy warmth

straddles the grey, shoving, craning

to burst forth?

Does the light streaming in, bounce off

into the abyss of insignificance;

shimmers of sweat dance naked amidst

electrified hairs, truants of vainglory?

Educe fragments of lost memories,

etching transparent silhouettes and

screeches trapped in  perpetuity;

my longings trace the ache of the night.

Do I linger? Linger on and on? Should I

erupt in crashes of turbid desire, awake,

alive; pausing in undulant pulses,

the now reverberating with the next?