At the maybe aisle

doors closing left and right
what a plight

for this to become a fight
the days coming held back by the weight of

 turning from what's right..

look back and the day gone.

wonder where the light.. went.
smoke a cigarette and the escalation begins

 if I forget where I've been.
took a picture of what I once looked like,

 how they turn to other pictures.  

spite.. spill my dish,
broken dish, yes dear.

found the fear.

a good thing

to turn back

 where I might continue

no place for a pile of mistakes

 again in the wild as dark as it gets
my possible file
list of crimes run for miles

change can come two ways

no need to lie  
or hands sawed off
others wish they could say goodbye
grip against the receding waves of force

like wind

 habits that made me a portrayal of sin.
Its possible for me to think I can get back whats been lost

asundered and
stung,
drowned

till winter turns spring

autumn's harvest is gone

the eve of opportunity left

as the value in me has bled
the feeling of remembering
 what it was like

 the best
 I found for now
its song is over 

will I start a new one?

a song worth singing.

one for which I long.