250308A
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Nothing ever goes right,
and you can only dream,
the way a dead man might dream,
of a beautiful nurse
nursing him back
into sickness.
Soiled bandages might pass
as something to replace
the loss of affection.
When they have taken too much,
you find you can still sacrifice
your bodily functions.
If she were beautiful enough
she could turn a crown of thorns
into a medical miracle.
She could penetrate
various body orifices
while you remain an invalid.
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250308B
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Whatever it was,
it was only meant to discourage,
and they always know
you cannot keep rising up forever,
from always being knocked down.
The ultimate evolution of it all
is about wearing you down and out,
before you ever get up to begin.
That way no one ever believes
anything was ever knocked down.
The ending is written first,
and you never need to write
the rest of the story,
knowing it is already over,
before you can discover the plot.
You find you can be frozen to death
in the middle of a hot summer day,
and you can get burned up into ashes
in the frozen middle of winter,
disappearing into the snow.
Whomever you love has left you,
knowing even the devil's forsaken you,
abandoning you at the crossroads.
You were not one of the chosen,
and nothing came to you from heaven.
You try to repeat your name,
but no one im****tant remembers you
from anywhere above,
giving you that hollow empty feeling
that any good has all been undone.
You keep reaching for it,
until your arms are too weary to lift,
but it always slips further away.
from where you're held down, pulled back,
while it all rushes forward again.
You feel you have to keep looking,
no longer sure anything can be found.
Failing a bullet, you know they can kill you,
using all the various forms of boredom
while playing at your every fear.
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250308C
-----------
Packed it up, and didn't say,
leaving no guesses behind
that are worth guessing at.
It always ends the same,
whether I say I need you,
whether I say I don't need you.
I am always kept waiting,
though time never waits for us,
coming to nothing in the end.
You came that near,
only so you could tell me
that you wanted someone else.
I could invent some explanations,
but that too becomes a similar collection
to that of eyes and skin and hair and teeth.
You made mine into another new loss,
for which I end up taking all the blame
just when I thought it all had changed.
You too became another of my teachers
knowing I used to believe in luck,
until you taught me too much about love.
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