dissipation of the beloved

the raging of frustration
when no words can give it boundaries
that fury that the endless effort never meets the
endless need

I orchestrate my martyrdom
supine for crucifiction
immobilized by anger I
can not afford to feel

because a mind I live for
does not see I would give anything
does not see betrayal senseless
does not know me for myself

frustration now is anger at the atrophy of sense
so this leather is a comfort in my masochistic punishment
but not enough
not spent enough
for her to trust I care

Daunting Days of Winter

I recently discovered at least 2 people have actually read this blog, so I am now inspired to post some of the terribly much I've written. Here's a poem I wrote when I was 15 about Autumn's end.

The summer days are over, now,
And I must face with dread
The strenuous and lengthy months
Stretching far ahead
So I will think now only
Of flowers, Spring and birth
And look with calmly happy eyes
On Summer’s faded mirth.
-- Fall of 1990

Breathing Cinder

Breathing cinder, pulse to ashes,
ashes, slip to Autumn sky --
echo, blood, through silent hillsides,
endless moment
stop to sigh

-9/17/06