Bad luck decorates her branches
flashing on and off like
strings of lights on a christmas tree.

Misfortune glows
as if fueled by noonday sun
under cloudless sky.

Each day she longs
for someone who might notice,
turn some switch,
dim the lights, pull a plug, and
diminish her pain. No hero
lurks nearby on prancing steed.

Don’t filaments fray,
bulbs burn out
and fail to ignite
one more time?

I've barked at the moon before
when it likely weren't my time,

I've supped with the likes of fools
and felt completely sublime;

I wish that I could write, right now
something that'd inspire, awe;

or cause my reader to be left
nearly standing on his own jaw.

Today, my focus is "dribble"
it's such a daunting task,

I think I covered this before
someone really aught to ask.

In the in-between-time
at the risk of sounding, dense;

sitting watching
valley veil
the warmth
on me
the cool
the shade
collects

I keep these moments
like pages
outlined with my thoughts

I stare in depth
and distance
diluting

all the pretty pain
folded like a worn knife
I take in rain
patterned dark

how In love
at arms length
you mean

my shadow fills

looking down at empty hands
void and unfulfilled
hopes and dreams lost
to abandoned thoughts

eyes turn up toward the sky
a scream of anguish is hurdled
as angels look down
and wonder why

a sound of thunder is heard
not the answer expected
for the question
which was applied

a sudden stab
as if a heart attack
while pain strums on strings
of a battered heart

another loss, there is no wayside
where you can fall
a yoke is carried like a torch
and time is vast like space