For a Torturous Memory

 
I labor from below
Tunneling
Overwhelmed by night

Where the lights cannot pry
And the silent linger
In the firm clutches of sleep

Dig out!
Is the refrain I hold
The harbored scream
Which fuels my effort

Dig out!
Claims my blistered hands
As they toil in spite
Bloodied and maimed

Home
Is a cherished beacon
Wafting through the ruins
Of a once prosperous mind

A ceaseless memory
That soothes and torments
Never leaving me to waver
Never falling
Out of favor with my thoughts

Beneath My Feral Hide

 
The windowpanes caught fire
And scorched slow
As I labored awake

I strained and heaved
To be clear and conscious
To coast through the morn
Unburdened, by days long lost

Still
I labored onward
Shroud
In nightmarish agony

I remained watchful
With prowling eyes
True to their search
For the cause
Of each mindless
Daily breath

The hunger
Never fully fades
For it remains within
Beneath my feral hide  

The Dormant Soul

 
Nothing stirs within
In the hours I depart
Thoughtlessly roving

Among
Patches of green
Cradling
Their newborn
Springtime shades

I am boxed in
Bound to eternal grey
Trudging through
Its lifeless and hollow refrain

How I yearn to be winded
Truly, devoid of words
To be fully engulfed
By the agony of raw emotion

I must
Reclaim exhilaration
Or wither
Starved, frail, and forgotten

My Niche of Yearning

 
On and on I writhe
Without a moment of rest
Stirring
With a hearth of longing
Scattering
The embers of distress

When am I to cave
To commune
With the rising dust?

Like the shards of old
Toppled over
By the swift and tireless present

Far off reveries
Have cursed me to rot
In this niche of yearning
In these trenches of regret

By the hour they cry
Faltering shrill
Scattering the kind earth
Into flaming shards of death

The howling departs
And I’ve long eroded
Into a withering shadow
Torn away from my former self

A Farewell to Panorama

 
The scenic view
Has diminished once again
Undone by a passing flicker
And the final gusts
In close pursuit

Cradled in desolation
I am doomed to conspire
To conceive tomorrow’s plains
Of vibrant green
And meandering veins of blue

Shall it come to pass
In these infertile moments
Shall its roots sprawl in defiance
And triumph over the dust

The mind strains
But the cause is all for naught
And the moments defer
Like herds at a drover’s call