through the morning

already sick of the cold mornings
but they only just began
scrapping the frost
off my car windows
cursing under my breath
but i’d rather be back inside
warm and content
with you

oh the morning drive
does damage on my soul
all the stop and go
just to look to the side
someone’s swerved out
of control and i
just keep on by
thinking of you

the off ramp’s crowded
everyone is laying on their horn
i turn up the stereo
but it’s never the right song
all these prizes i wont win
advertisements about my skin
i just wait my turn
hoping to hear you

construction on the country road
down to a shared single lane
everyone for the next ten kilometers
will likely share my pain
as the workers on their phones
crack terrible jokes
give me the stink eye
i sink in the memory of yours

parking lot is always crowded
so i end up at the far side
slipping as i walk on by
i look up to the sky
the sun starts to shine bright
stinging my sleepy eyes
so i just close them
and i dream of you


does the abandonment of loyalty
ever come back to cast its shadow
over the accomplishments
you used it for

does it keep you up nightly
watching the windows and doors
for the imminent destruction
of whatever hope you have

the river you sold them down
was it as shallow as your heart
just as black and thick
as the blood that flows in your veins

i remember the moment
when you decided to leave
when you came back afterwards
rewards and accomplishments in handfuls

the value you feel now
soon will be diminished
by the betrayal and deceit
you left in your wake

i won’t be around to see your fall
the aftershock will ruin all around

good deal

albeit advancement takes time
though seen in days or weeks
whenever waiting for anything
always ends up feeling like forever
regardless of the measurement
the timetable bends to none
even if you feel owed
a rush won’t come around
those idle hands you wield
get you into more trouble
then when you try to help
breaking glass against concrete
cutting skin to reveal
blood on the floor
to be bandaged up
with old gauze
leftover tape
misplaced hope
misguided faiths
change is coming
the scrapes and bruises
those are part
of the deal


let it elude us
dashing past
via shortcuts
small bridges
steadfast on
shielded by
old hope
the past
or reckless
guided by
in sequence
to the stars
rolling on
against clouds
darker there
before it ends
tell me once
the truth


if i counted up the weeks
would they allow me peace
to trespass my hollowed mind
how many breaths i’ve taken
as granted as the sun rises
maybe now i understand
the little things add up
even if they aren’t counted
never put in front
seen only to those attentive
to small actions underneath
the brevity of ignorance
befallen upon those within
man made confines
of walls adorn of strokes
the meaning assumed
though never fully reached
if the time is skipped then
what matter is it now
to set aside and wonder
if the next action
is the right one
if the next breath
is the last one