The Scarlett Locket

What is this deep-seeded 

Sadness that blossoms 

with the seasons of my age?

Time is just wind passing by 

until it’s undone

all the threads of my coat,

stripped away all my warmth, 

no blood, no bodies around. 

Well let me freeze baby’s blue,

sometimes I yearn to be isolated in time 

until splashes of the past life 

threat to spill from my eyes

and drown me out of any breath. 

I didn’t mean to turn the world into 

water,

where is your faith when I say 

I have no idea what I want 

where to go 

or what to make of these memories?

I wail in the solitude of 

the silvering seas,

not a prayer to appreicate

not a single God

to echolocate.

Won’t you tell me, 

do I look towards the heavens?

or convert myself into the very divinity of the church?

Pretend I can’t be hurt 

by the illusion of this tender earth? 

Well, I will spare myself the labor 

spare the world a traitor-

Tuck these questions into my baggage 

And take the next train 

of thought home. 

‎

What light is it that lazers my tears 

in a lunar beam, an opalescent stream?

Well, It is the east

and this melancholia is the moon-

Just the mood to chase 

every one,

every sun 

and every high 

I can ride away 

from myself. 

How do I stray so far from my body 

when I collaspe 

into the sinkholes of my mind? 

‎

There’s not enough miles  

I can drive away 

from myself. 

So when the clock has rid me of my work 

I weave through traffic,

interlace myself with the smog of my casket 

and call it 

a day.