And The Sun Would Last Forever...

And the sun would last forever to blind pulses of a lighthouse screaming at seagulls signals swooping over me. The summer romance is lost in black clouds, storming waves blended through gray days and a cold ghost's sweat who remembered me once but so soon forgets...

I remember when 1985 seemed so close, when I felt so young and no one was born after me, and those before me were strange and old. Where did my memories go? What can be replaced? Do I need them or do I need you? Do I need him or do I need you?

330 am days get shorter as her heart grows thicker and he grows sicker. The dead hour night eclipses over a soul, turns to shadows and his angels to dark, invades his spirits and burns them clean with white light in lost happiness, in lost sight. The changes she fears dawn in unchanged tears, painful and draping her cheeks crowning of forgotten years and the mornings wind blows curtains to shelter and wither with a song by an unknown artist to never be complete tying us all together, a melody lost into tapping toes and dancing feet.

I wake myself whimpering and shivering, clawing with hunger pains moaning and angry for your hands and lips, blind and waiting to feel your eyes covering me and keeping me under you.
Restless and aching like the city, a visitor, something strange and extraordinary with its lackluster smog, concrete and steel, too sharp, too existent, too real. I sit and stare at the ordinary cloud cover over ordinary buildings, and ordinary people as insignificant specs of dirt, as insignificant as we think we're not.
My thoughts flash backwards to the smoky ring oozing from your mouth as a steady stream of the same monster derails from my fingers, ashes onto your floor, seeps through your door, breathes into your dream. Restless as I sit and stare, simple and clean and wishing my body wasn’t there. If the sun did not rise so early, if my head would trust how you feel, would I be awake worrying in a lovesick daze after crying in my sleep. Do you really see me, or am I just your ghost of years past? Do you really see me? I wonder, will I last?

Buffalo

I sit on the roof of a forgotten home, staring at the sky line of some fallen city. Its lights begin to dim with each breath from my stale and smokey mouth.
The night is clear enough to see all which I do not need to know...and the cruel wind seduces me, warming me, asking me to follow as it passes on.
In my life I know I will not go. In my life I know I cannot stay. To stay here...To stay on this sunken roof. To stay on this broken frame. To stay with those dimming lights, To stay with that fading city, To stay with a beating heart...