March 3rd

Dusk whimpers
Deer scatter,
Cerise bleeds across the bruised sky and a horizon crafted of smog

March is a cruel temptress
Her lips mimic the moon,
A cruel mocking grin
Curved like Death's scythe
Her breaths hollow wind

Decay and rebirth make hate, but call it love
To evoke the abusive relationship of a tardy Spring

A tormented generation trapped in an icy mirror
Shrieks of men in foolish war echo
Off hills and birch trees
Doves coo
A mournful song
One of sorrow and childhood
Lost to those that suffer with no necessity

Another sunless day,
Tendrils of tiredness wrap inside of souls,
A silver-chain noose yanks and snaps necks
A society to be lynched by loneliness
Left alone in world of desolation

Social skills shriek in a blaze and smell of burning plastic

Dirt added to communication's burial with each passed March 2019: The final breath of society's descent in eternal sickness

Eyes, minds and fingers tainted, mutilated and bent from seven-second addictions
Fissures incurable from years of infection and isolation

Ticks lurk
Ladybugs pray
Thirteen Blackbirds survey
Leather bound books fray

Only so many horrors can be written in a single season
Pages composed in the language of despair

Curves and loops of the true tragedy of humanity
To trust—To love—To be betrayed
The greatest foe of our lives, ourselves

Warmth retreats as I collapse
Stones embedded into interwoven chasms of virgin palms
Candle light of brick buildings transform to spirits of smoke
To taunt and tease of ceaseless responsibilities

Church bells chime on land of desecration
Serpents slither across unholy ground
Through gray snow, salt and muck

The end of times—Persephone rise, Jesus beside
Save our society from a slow misery of empathy's perishment,

We Wait for Spring
We wait for Salvation
And We wait for Mercy