Skirting The Waters Of Styx
I have no coin to eyes at the moment
as I wander the edge of these waters
Reflecting lifetimes flash amidst the waves
painting many happy times
there are no regrets
Only experience and all the definition it entails
Were it only once that death had its questions
the ramble here would never exist.
The walk of steady rhythm
more days of questions asked
...or the offbeat path
into open arrival
I casually observe then immerse
myself with what detail
the winds whisper, the earthen promise
of dirt and stone
I will seep to the valley below
ride the open rains
for I know my home
what is earth and I...
ash or casket
leavens of bread
reach unto skies
from hallowed holes
the crevice of a mountainside
residing hillside lift and sin
Choking indoor plants with cigarette smoke
Jim rubbed his fingers along the manufactured paper.
He likened the glued section to sails, flipping it up in a straight line, back to the butt.
Dog-ends litter his life, as does the last lucky smoke,haunting him like a stalker, knife at the ready.
There are no goodbyes, O how he wish there were.
For every smile he has ever had came from his friends.
Drops his head for a moment, not once coming up for air.
He surrounds himself with angels who know better than himself.
The sound of the rattle,
the fuss at such an early age and the one here propped upon the concrete.
Feel it scrape against Your face old man, was his moments thought.
There it was...deicide
so many times before
Thankfully, I have known them
O but then...
the wait putting the book back
on the old leveling shelf
somebody cry me the story
dip down into the ink
soak within in my message
Written by souladareatease
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