Tundras of the Heart

A poem about wastelands, both within and without

Snow falls over our dreams
leaving behind myths,
lost lovers regrets
that fled upon
tomorrow’s broken roads
leading, without
my footprints
to never mend
these tiny stars
that grow quiet,
in the collective shade
of society.

And your hands,
coated in the fires
of my heart,
does feels its way
along the lines of time,
my skin,
hardened as that tree
my eyes fade as that horizon
my subtle poems,
the only thing I have
left to give.

As you comfort me
in these lonely hours,
I know,
I will take the
path of defeat,
because all I know,
Is to unbecome
the illusion of self
all I know is to annihilate
whatever delusions
I once held
comfortably unto
All I know is to live
and die within a breath
behest my air dance
upon the noose.

In life,
so giving,
I turned from boy to man
in a casket full,
of aces and eights.

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