Monday, August 10, 2009

Is it raining on your desert?

My poetic works are soggy
saturated with your tears
I've had to go away now
to struggle with my own fears

I've been keeping holed up
and not answering the phone
I just want to lay in bed
and be left well enough alone

But you sit in your flat
and wonder what could it have been
pouring over my words
trying to reach a logical end

But things just seem to unravel
like string all clumped up in a ball
and there's no beginning or end
to the musings on that wall

So as I wrestle with my psyche
and get pinned to the mat
I wonder why you joined me
when it keeps ending up like that

And as you fight your own fight
and make headway with your test
I conquer my own insecurities
but still keep my cards close to my vest

and the devil watches closely
as we try to come to terms
the angels are cheering for us
lined up around the berms

the playing field is littered
with countless forsaken souls
and the dead and dying moan out
from their lover's blows

And when the dust has settled
and the victor has been carried off
and the losers are left there vanquished
while the arrogant laugh and scoff

But is it not the fight itself
that prepares us for the end
weary of these fucking games
we just want a "forever" friend.

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