Days like today,
Remind me of the past.
Warmth of the cold
A love I hope will last.
You fear I will not answer,
Upon your fearful call.
I would simply die,
If I ever hurt you at all.
I would end others’ to protect yours.
I would die without you.
I fear for you as I fear for myself.
Daily, I fight to get over you.
You are stuck like a wrench in a cog.
My mind will always come back to you.
The fact that you called,
Shows me you feel the same.
A Dadaist concept
Of a ti-82
Floats behind my sclera.
The insomniac’s struggles
As evening approaches
Are overtaken by my autonomicals.
Dark comforts,
The birds take their jurist roles,
As I break and nap.
Waking minutes later
To the benzocaine burn
Of my freshly numbed cold sore.
I tap my feet,
Fantasizing in the surreal,
Wanting to create.
In this meditative state,
I realize the next step is coming,
And I must take its course.
In case you didn’t know, I was in the Marine Corps for about two years before I was separated for Medical reasons. I served as a 4341, Combat Correspondent. Needless to say, I took quite a few cool pictures during that time. Here’s one to start off the day! Good morning and Semper Fidelis
Still going
Lack of Rest,
Lack of Food,
You are killing me.
At least I’m bigger,
What a waste,
He begs for Vegas.
Dear John,
I’ve seen the rain,
Too much, perhaps.
At first, it calms,
But I miss the stars.
Nothing worse than a black sky.
On those nights I think.
I write, I paint.
But I don’t sleep.
Eventually the black turns grey,
As my part of earth
Turns towards the sun once again.
That’s when I go out
For my morning cigarette,
And see the worms haven’t slept either.
I rarely give them thought.
Dodging them on the asphalt,
Keeping my bare feet clean.
They saw the rain,
And lost everything,
And I give them no thought.
Oh, John.
Have you seen the rain?
Grass turned to mud?
I think you have,
But you watch the fresh grass grow.
You look at the clearing and the humid sun.
You light your cigarette,
And dodge the worms,
Giving them no thought.
You smile at the new day,
While I’m stuck in the storm.
I envy you.
Though my fallen bride lies fallen
The Lord won’t have me.
Revenge instead of repentance,
Her tomb will taste His own’s blood.
I feel like making something, so, whoever comments on this will get a custom post card mailed to them. I’ll make a max of 5. Comment on this and email me an address at dcidcorvid@yahoo.com and I will have your post card in the mail this week.
Went to a bar tonight, the Garry Owen’s in Gettysburg. It’s a favorite of mine, I can’t recommend it enough. The bartender tonight was a gent named Matt. He provided fast and friendly drinks, and I left feeling quite a bit happier and a little bit more buzzed than I was when I went in. Thanks Matt.
Picture is a doodle while at the bar.
Dcid Corvid 