Ketchup

Every moment spent on edge
Feeling on the fringe
Shouting matches in our minds
Calm asks where we’ve been

Know there is a fix for this
Truly, there’s a path
Go to your knees, finally
Seek His face and ask

Mist Unknown

Should we leave

Into the ministry unknown
Fine day or misty

Knowing
Our thrill lies there

Fearing
Sediment building here

As brain fog
As ankle chains, of sorts

Hearts at risk, lives at stake
Apathy and anarchy abound

Should we stay

Unpause

What if my blink lasts an extra beat more
Unintended, I cannot explain

What if while this, my inhale I implore
Is reality seeking to feign?

Gravity, come, take your match by the hand
Ether has waited for this

Fluttering eyes, staccato breath
So much words culminate in a kiss

Sleep Demons

It’s not our fault, the night
Racing in to become the pace car to our heart rate
That it might conquer

Why weave these words, darkness, ’round our ankles?
Utterances we used to need to hear, that would have us walking tall?

I can’t say your name, but your number, I know
‘Til my last breath, I call you the liar you be

Your wishing to blackmail
Your attempt to bruise
Reality we now enjoy

Ask us to wrestle, and wrestle we will
For you have lost us
To flowers and fauna
Forever to smiles from friends

Again
And over again

Aching Sunday

Tremendous love, resides inside

As an aria
Weightless and burdensome
How is it that such fullness
This nothing less than aching
Arrives and leaves me
Walking
Feeling
As a ghost on Sunday
An otherwise fine, fine day

And there are no ears to touch?