Cruelty of Time

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Timing is perfect,

Or perfectly awful.

The only thing I

Can count on is

For shit to

Go wrong.

 

Why? Why, I ask,

Does my fate have

The uncanny ability

To treat me like

An abusive lover.

Timing is a

Cruel joke,

Made to make

One sweat out life.

 

And, for what?

The glorious feeling

Of stress and despair?

What is the point?

Devilish laughter

Comes from

Father Time.

Fate colludes with

Him gladly.

The suffering

Of the peons

Pleases them

Greatly.

Ode to an Alcoholic

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He’s life’s bitch,

A slave to his bottle,

Fucked up, sad boy,

Everything is

Not his fault.

He’s life’s bitch,

His job sucks,

His Windsor

Isn’t cold enough,

He’s all alone.

He’s life’s bitch,

Darkness,

bleak and drunk,

No shower for weeks,

The stench of

Depression.

Holding onto the walls

As you stumble

Around the house,

Drink until you

Pass out every

Fucking night.

Renewal

Image via Pinterest (photgrapher unknown)

I am a changeling

In this season of renewal

Inviting the metamorphosis

Of becoming a butterfly.

Colors warm the earth

Vivid, sparkling greens and blues

Quiet violets and tulips

Reaching for the sun

With jade leaves.

Spring rains kiss the grass

As Daffodils stand proudly

And I flit and I pause

To exchange pleasantries

With the happy daisies.