The Wanderer (Devotion in the Shadow of Demise)

We’re all crystal Methodists,

Our beauty drips from our eyes;

Falling fake, forcing fatigue in

The backseat when we take our

Screen-test drives.

Our verses are so free-based and so arcane.

I walked on without anything to say,

The leather of my hands was coarse

And my hope was frayed. I wonder

If things may have been different,

If things may have been better if

I had stayed there with you.

My verses are so free-based

And arcane, like the acidic love

I swore I commanded in your tainted

Name. Things have changed since

I departed. I’ve seen my world

Collapse and I’ve danced with our memories and dreams un-started.

What we had was not shadowed and blown

Down to the weeds with doubt; it was

Rotted out with confidence, rising up from

Fears we denied. In spite of those many

Stiff oak mornings in your forest of lies,

It’s forever in your arms I want to be,

Even as the planet dies.