A mausoleum mind I hide
With all the skeletons
That bind me
to a jaded past
Where every now and then again
I dig the bones up with my pen
As if they were a long lost friend
But friendships
never last
And why would I do this you ask?
Take every memory to task
When all the joy I’ll ever need
Is well within my sight
It’s just a form of tool I use
To mourn the loss of whom I choose
And justify the meanings of
The darker things I write
The darker things I write
By fear of flight or just for spite
Become as nails
that dig my flesh
into the pages
that you read
Where every now and then
I bend the truth and so pretend
To be the shadow of a man you see
Who on demand, will bleed
The seeds of hate that surely sprout
Are cultivated with the mouth
We speak the rain
That brings the pain
As fertile soil cries out for more
While sowing rose’s for to reap
Crushed neatly in the books we keep
As records of the lives we take
As prizes we adore
All the while the darkness reigns
A million words
run through my veins
Spilling out as mildewed stains
Onto this pixeled slate
You read my faults in shades of white
Like sugar cubes as black as night
They taste so sweet like love’s delight
Then quickly melt to hate
TM DiSarro
©2021 TM DiSarro / MindScapes Publishing
From my book: THE BUSHMAN
TM DiSarro 