Shadow-cast Glass

Call to me and I will whisper, "come,"
for I miss you as the fall brings morning dew,
and the sweat on my brow becomes the rain on my eyelid,
and I am speaking to you in the apostrophe of local clouds,
the honey melon of mental rainbows, refracted off the hard glass.

Which keeps me from waving to you in my dreams,
as you seem to pass by, yet waiting all the time,
like a painting beyond my focus, the concert that sings to me,
echoing what has been proclaimed: "you who were born a criminal,
shall not die as one," the remembrance written in my name.

Messenger Decreed

Stories of a wider breed,
coming racing steadily,
white knight and shining steed,
carrying pens to write a different creed.

Bleed until your owner's been appeased,
pen, mark the paper as you're seized,
form the letters so the eyes are pleased,
then put to rest as you are released.

Fight the crowing mean disease,
devouring you and eating me,
inside a city, my body you see,
stay your hand, give ear to my plea.

Heading due Rest

Waking before dawn,
can feel like the needle stick,
of novocain that stings and then fades,
even after I've stood up and dimmed the alarm,
I feel like I've lost the point of what I'm doing.

I question if I pushed too far home,
moving to ground level, if I ended in the basement,
as in pre-dawn morning I wonder where my heart is,
even as my stomach rolls over, begging for purpose,
I recall the source of my weariness, that dull crack.

All those earnest thoughts as I lay on my bed,
seemed to have been smothered in sleep by my sheets,
a rest that rearranged my head, sifting it around,
as a deck of cards, yet while the latter should be shuffled,
the former functions better in a deliberate order.