I used to put the hopeless
in the romantic
and now
I simply put the hopeless
in everything.

The candy-coated dreams
of childhood years
have been replaced
with far too many
realities to count.

The rain pit patters
on the window sill
of my soul
that sits moistened
by the tumultuous
winds that life
has thrown upon me.

These words written
upon paper so temporary
seem to be upon stone.

The candlelight
gives enough supply
to make squinting
only sometimes necessary
though the intense focus
adds to the demise.

The unending anguish
feeds upon itself.

I am a hopeless man
with but few dreams
that dwindle every day
until eventually
the wax has run out
and the flame disappears
into finality.

04/17/2011

Posted on 04/17/2011
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