Taken By The Scrolls

When the day breaks

Out of my dark bouncy castle 

I wake

Swept into the afterlife of my dreams

By a wave of consciousness slapping 

Against the tombstones

A wet whip of tender aggression

An age-old violence 

The wooden whinny of the horse 

Demanding a relentless back and forth 

Commanding me to retrieve all rocks 

That were cast into the water

A mercurial drink

That now drowns me, fills me

and leaves me dry

In the ghostly remnants 

of two-handed strangers 

beckoning me to turn their keys

But the pendulum has struck

and the very second is now

Trickling through weary fists

Running over every tip of the tongue

Like a fabric shielding demise

from the still haste of a cantaloupe 

Oh Lord, how sweetly must I perish

before the seeds come home to soil? 

How many mirrors will be broken

how many terms in my turmoil?

Can’t I be done with blackened honey

I won’t last another sting.

Why do I have to keep on dying? 

Can’t you leave me, let me sing?