House of Sorrow

Through the doorway that sighs to the touch

come, enter my private house of sorrow

walk through the rooms with objects of mockery

ever-present beings of selfish manipulation

it stands overflowed with emptiness

I own a place here; empty man in an empty place

a box-close-walls emblazoned with tears

alone, but I’ve grown to believe in loneliness


She lays soft and silent at dawn

molding the bed, her body pale and strong

every remembrance is another tear, teach me to care

fiery tendrils fall across her face

shading maudlin secrets beneath the blaze

and the cross of yellow-light; a laser-line upon my life

there lies a doorway fading in to mystery

for her to be mine, things that are stolen

like a panting breath, or a living photograph

a downpour of birthdays, follow the deserted roadways

Through the deafness, awake to a voice

breaking through her dream, some windy noise

comes my soul wailing of doubt, but still I’m drawn to her waiting mouth

And I slowly sense her gaze, so warm

distant, with the dark beauty of a storm

every tomorrow is unknown, every breath becomes a moan

I know her body, hard and aware

Something she’ll never share

A body to share

Hard and aware