A sinking feeling

There's an unrelenting torrent of words spewing from what seems to be emotional turmoil in the left aorta. That coupled with the drug induced self-doubt should be enough to question surviving the night. I had always imagined that love would be an easily managed thing. I never thought it would claw at the scabs of my wounded heart like a crazed rat. Each painful nibble opening old scars a little bit more as the arteries pump all sorts of darkness into, whatever it is that's left. Not much hope for a broken heart. Take off the gloves, lock up the defib, this one is done. The boys will bid me well and float me down the river. Tell my mother I'll miss her, tell the girls I wish I could say the same. Let them watch the torrent of words finally drown this broken barge of mine.

Mirror, mirror.

We want to be just so broken
that someone
might want to repair it.

The hopeless heart.
The unlovable soul.
All wolf cries for help.

Just illusions formed
and allusions made
on close inspection of empty words.

Never meant to show the truth,
only blur the vision of it.

We want to create
this image of us
so the reflection might seem more real.

So we might become
what our eyes think they see.

So that we may find,
in this miserable world,
someone
to share our miseries with.

Bounty Paid

He rode up
With the early dawn
Two pistols by his side.

"Come out old man,
And pay the price."
To the window he had cried.

"This is the time
To face your fate
There is nowhere you can hide."

Slowly then
The doorway slid
And the guilty stepped outside.

His face was scarred
His eyes were dark
His hair was surely dyed.

"You call upon
The wrong man"
Came the feeble alibi.

"I was here at home,
With my wife and child
I promise I do not lie."

The rider paused
A second still
And considered the dice.

He sought to make
Sense of the face
That stared into his eyes.

As the sun rose up
Behind the mill
And shed its blinding light

A shot rang out
Gunpowder smells
Choked up the countryside

The scarred man
Stood in the doorway still
While the rider slowly died.

He walked up to
The bleeding man
And knelt down by his side.

He pulled aside
The two guns and said
"I'm sorry for my crime.

"There was no way
For you to live
And me to keep what's mine.

I know the day
I'm judged for this
There'll be no mercy to be had

So let them send
Ten thousand more
If it makes them just as glad."

The rider gave
His final breath
To have two words as his last

"Burn down"
He cried to the dark eyed man
Still clinging to the past.

The murderer
Picked the body up
By sundown it was lost.

While the two guns
Raised on a mantelpiece
Reminded of the cost.

A man who seeks
Another's blood
Should dig a pair of graves.

There is no hope
For vengeance when
Luck and fortune saves.

Rebound.

I refuse to be,
Just another name.
In your list of strange bedfellows.

I choose,
Not to remain.
The fool you made of me.

It wasn't by your glance,
Or your lingering hand
That I was slighted.

I don't think it was,
Your affliction to the phone
That made you seem benighted.

For a moment there,
You got me going.
I believed I meant more than every other.

And you even had me,
Happy with the fact
That we had no great future.

But I refuse,
To be just another name
In your list of strange bedfellows.

I don't think,
I was made to lead,
But this time I refuse to follow.

I don't think,
I can become.
Another lover whose heart turned hollow.

I would rather,
Forget you today.
And look to a calmer tomorrow.