Homecoming
-Jonathan Mason
And so the time passes, the crimson fades to ashes . . .
the chill from inside stifling, surprising how the window
leads to only hollow through those blues,
astonished that they could sprout tears through these years.
The gold gets old, apparently so does trust
can't wait to let the scars eventually rust
with the stitches, it itches, the events maybe glitches.
Won't pretend to comprehend that all good things do come to end.
Nonchalantly throwing passion aside commitment,
not thinking twice the vocabulary razors sent.
Effervescent cascades commence the apoptosis,
Convoluted shadows substitute the end necrosis
and bleed again, to my chagrin
putting my life in hands I can't depend.
Glitter and sparkles not even weighing an ounce,
though the heaviest of masses caving in the whole house.
Glancing back and festered with continuing rage
jilted, evaporated tears with a coming of age.
Never thinking twice about attempted sedation,
I look up to You with fevered meditation.
The phrases and cries released with challenge and venom,
knowing me too well that they were not for Him.
Nor for me, her, anyone, alive or dead,
just pleading to get the emotion outside of my head.
Can't forget, impossible but can I ever forgive?
Other people, soon responsible to see that they live.
Never mind the old favors or the material things,
there is a warmth heavenly that only unknown can bring.
Tattooed occurrences that make this tattered man smile,
to have the patience again that they will recur in a while.
. . . . . .
Afraid to go to sleep the nightmares they creep, can't express the desires I need to feed the fire instead combust I must distrust the images to me deceiving in peering in mind to unwind to give in this sin can't let the past win smiling inside to me, just see, just look and let me off the hook just this once …
on my lap she sits, the mess I put up, shut up, get off, back away, can't live this way the bareness I cradle my fourth and feel blessed the thoughts, the mess distraught. I wake, take the thoughts to dispel this hell, deep breath in the dark, be real, know the deal, no spark, but dampness the cold creeps on the flesh and mesh, intertwine, un-rewind, and view nothing.
Seconds never exist until they whisper by so why my anxiety overcomes peers so near?
. . . . . .
Convalescent illusions creep and seep to the tangible
Like a knockout, an uppercut, straight to the mandible
Rolling the grit, bloody spit between the teeth and tongue
A life taken away, soul and breath from the lungs
Contemplating the torture, the lust, and the tease
Longing for the truth, the touch, romance with ease
Viewed upon inches right in front of my face
Though so close, living far in a distant place
What more could anyone possibly want or need?
But like most others I couldn't decipher or
Read, now contempt to never tempt no one nor my own self
Stacking mementos no worth along the top shelf
Though no hatred or vengeance bases this metaphoric tirade,
these expressions a release as I mature in my age
No need for fortunes or predictions at the end
Leaning back, eyes ahead, while fragility starts to mend.
Released and alone, to roam on my own
God only knows what's with me to experience the unknown
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