To Whom It May Concern - 11122003

Messages within a poem series.

And all I taught you were was everything
shaped beneath my palms bloodied dreams
on broken glass beautiful tragedy
my bitterness already the heart bleeds
a life lived on stone soured memories
tiger’s roar muted to a withering meow
clean slit throat grace on laces of shroud
precious life bottled up in gravy jars
the oil burns into my wounds reopens old scars
and comes the rain it hasn’t dried for awhile
nothing grows in thick water drowning child
stones in my stomach heavy things wont fly
sit solid and wonder while the world passed by
ancient echoes did I hear what you said
was it clear or just made up in my head
charcoaled fingers painted the walls red
tissues breathe things long lost and dead
as flames flickered being my cigarette
bottles half empty chime some long lost tune
ghostly figures of promises and silent muse
choke on your own clot heals some twist
your time has ended here but never missed.