Gay

All of the times I drove forward, you were not far behind. Lying in circles the chosen have come to be scorned. While the watchers go watching, the blood dried upon their hands. The archers have drawn their last breaths and the battle is over. But the deceivers, believing they could be brought in from the cold Wet wrought iron fences are bleeding their rusted tears. Onto the glass and the stone would we be remiss? To ask God a favor like could you be caught in a lie?

Gone

Brought down the mountain On the heels of a suburban sweetness. Escaping from the lips of the unborn Feelings that are tied up in flowers. Bitter blossoms breaking through the fog To a better end does one come forward. To be forlorn or peace-worn? A believer or a seizure? Picking up the pieces of his heart Let it be what ever it will be The southern front runs over the hills A blessed battle toward a better hell. Woven in tears of respite, Peony came to bed On the heels of their regret. Do these mists look darker to you? They sang into the twilight A twilight of listlessness Sounds of the fever picking, pacing Racing to see the next dawn But what does he say when the curtain is drawn? A close up, sensual light show That we didn't ask for. A bellow blows.