room no. 147 redux.

same hotel
same room

as one year ago

give or take
a few weeks

same jade green curtains
same porcelain sink

and white, white sheets

as though nothing
has changed at all.

i tried today.

there is a moment

between saying everything
and saying nothing

where i inhale

in hopes that something will spill out
from the deepest place in my belly

that words will ride my tongue
and roll from my red lips

finding their way into your heart
into some kind of understanding

but it is the breath between words
full of fear and anxiety

that leaves me voiceless.

the brilliant blue-green
has turned back to red clay

it stretches as far as i can see
running over the edges of the earth

flat and empty
and silent

life at a stand still.

if the thundercloud
passes rain
so let it rain
let it rain

rain down on him

without

a father or
a mother
[for different reasons]

but

for the most part

alone.

last night

i dreamt
of a terrible thing

and also
the end of the universe

i was disappointed when i woke up.

metal collides with porcelain
vibrates teeth in soft sockets
forcing jaw to clench tighter

even in dreams.

sunday morning confession. part II.

crisp september wind carries
the ringing of church bells
through the full open windows
of our small house with wooden floors
and white white walls
but when i close my eyes again
here, under mountains of blankets, bells
have been replaced by words
ringing empty steel echoes
reminding of the Saviour
who will never come.

i had gone
so many days
without fucking up

but now

it's just the same old thing again.

sunday morning confession.

she sits

in a room soaked in sunday morning light
which streams through glass panes
creating not-quite square patterns
beneath her pale feet

while she rubs her hands together, weaving
aching fingers in and out of one another
interlacing past with present

as tides of guilt wash over her
carrying last night's dream out to sea
but first giving promise of its incessant return.

'maybe in that moment, he wanted to bury his life alongside his past.'