WORKSHOP

"6 a.m."

people in motion
as the world keeps on spinning
frantically
looking for pause
life glides by
as if on ice
it is kept cold

the heart speaks
seldom listening
to the word

it hurts to breathe
the pollution of
man
stopping, waiting
going, fading
how many faces
can one dismember
in a single sitting
and they wondered

the cigarette burns
into oblivion
as life crawls
from the depths
of the darkest
corner
to the illuminating
sun

"black bird"

it's funny how things end up. you alone, breathing in a forgien air that is oh so familiar. jumping from moment to moment, hoping something will distract consciousness. the world is outside. through the doors of decisions. white painted innocense pearing through as the crow calls your bluff from decades ago. it's been done. they've all seen it. the lights, the action, the people cheering the names. when is it over?

the mind works faster than it ever has. fallen below again. staggering to a new dawn. clocks. fallen from the heavens. bellzebub. forsaken. holy son beaten and mangled and unrecognizable. disciples follow but the road is endless. searching for an answer. questions are all that lie in the ruff. looking for the diamond. trite.the

crows. outside. they call from afar. my name.