Content With the Cold

What part of it mattered, Sir Universe?
What part of it shifted your dust any closer to mine?
What particles of us loved any more or lied any less when we looked in the mirror each day?

What caused us to trifle with Truth?
Frozen days are coming.
Darkened days, at full throttle, now.
What pieces of our hearts remain to force the thaw?

What sadness, were we to be, or not to be, content with the cold. 


Unmanaged sadness, wearing a mask of unfelt smiles and laughter

Living with abandon as a chronic stranger to his own self

“Who am I?” unasked upon those too-proud lips

Exhausted from a stealthy, auto-pilot ego and the damaged relationships in his wake

Breaker of a million promises to us and to them and to who knows who else

Stealer and murderer of lyrics, of sentiment, of children’s and women’s hearts

Misappropriator of my very convictions to himself

Not my best friend despite his feigned, expressed desire

Sans a goodbye, claiming he’d leave his options open

Walked out on me lo’, that hard August day

And it’s October

And I’m okay

Kitchen Floor Musings

I plan to lament, to pity-party, to languish-unapologetic-like, the daylong, in regret and angst.

When dawn of some new era calls, I’ll hear it’s hearken, I’ll know it’s finally time I arise from the rain and fog.

‘Til that day, you’re cursed, Mountain, you’re soul-sold, Hollow, you’re a kind woman’s Relic and Shame.