Another gift from our gracious lord
Wrought by heavy, calloused hands,
But we carry on, better for our burdens
Shoulders stronger at the back's expense,
Survive, we say. Eyes down, hands bound
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Another gift from our gracious lord
Wrought by heavy, calloused hands,
But we carry on, better for our burdens
Shoulders stronger at the back's expense,
Survive, we say. Eyes down, hands bound
Restless and angry,
Frustration guides idle hands
Into violence
Sweet, passing bliss
Another listless, lazy cloud
Lumbers above, about,
Unintentional
Too much is shrouded, today,
Half-truths and twice-lies
Run amok with idle minds
And busy tongues
Another day's relentless rain
Cloud and concrete darken, dampen,
The Sun unseen, time loses all sense
And malaise runs rampant
Through our misty minds
Crack the earth
Shrugging off, again,
The mud and stone
Moss, overgrown
Like wild, patient flames
And life, itself -- all-consuming
The little village was vanished,
Consumed,
By the phantoms of morning's rain.
The hills are haunted,
And wandered,
By the mist that remains.
Laughing disbelief,
As desperation disolves
Into emptiness
Gentle notes play along the breeze,
The browning leaves whirl
A slow, cold dance
Latent, now lingering,
The lost feelings you've been searching for
Down in the deep,
You struck the scarred earth,
Loosing the black well,
Drowning for your effort,
Abyss for your curiosity.
The cathartic chase,
Fang and tail,
May lead you nowhere fast,
But it does often help,
With puzzling out the problems,
And unraveling the tangled stresses,
Of a troubled mind
Summer's breeze, embittered,
Descends, biting and cold,
Blustering indifferently,
Through the naked branches.
Bundle up, be safe,
And good luck out there.
These warm nights, still lingering,
Hold the last line against Autumn's chilling,
Hands of icy dawn,
That pluck leaves from their branches,
And dreamers from their sleep
I'm very much a brain in a body, today.
Everything feels so near-detached,
And unfamiliar.
No, I remember.
Just,
Almost
Isn't it sad,
That the life you find yourself with,
That you wake up ensnared in,
Is so far from the gild and wonder,
Your dreams had laid out for you?
Every morning, a new ache.
Sometimes shallow and fleeting,
Often deep and terrible.
Each night, I sink beneath the covers,
Heavy under the mounting stresses,
Some are old and scabbed over,
Picked and scratched until bloody,
Some new and ripe,
Plucked from the troubles of the day,
Sore, just the same.
A castaway,
Adrift in the nothing between stars,
Careening along the streams and cosmic byways,
Numb to the quiet loneliness,
And the slow, slow, suffocation,
Dreamily wondering what distant shores,
Might hold up my weariness
And let me sleep