HOME | DD

Description
within the picture
placed with delicate precision
on the stand next to my bed.
                                        within the cigarettes
                                        i smoke - one after the other -
                                        night after unending night.
within the flirtatious encounters
i have with other women
while wedding band and the
japanese symbol for fidelity
burn the skin they touch.
                                       (damn that mark they drew upon my arm.)

within the scotch; the drunkenness.
          within the laments and rage.

within the poetry that flows
           from the pen, staining my fingers
                  the color of black ink.
                  the dark color of my soul.

within it all, i delve for solace.
but nothing seems to satisfy.

                                           vain substitutions.

they do not compare
to the touch of your fingers
through the disheveled field of light brown
upon my head.
                                  to the passionate embraces;
                                  the feel of your lips speaking hidden words
                                  through the kisses we've shared.
           they burn upon my mouth yet today.
           they convict my wandering eyes
                             my melancholy disposition
              and poison my memories
                    with a happiness that belongs within archival footage
                                                            of days spent with you.

              seeking solace from the emptiness.

yet one thing resonates
                                       with each vice i pursue
                                       with wine, women, and angst-riddled song.
      none of these items
      i beg to bring me comfort
           can bring the comfort
           that comes from holding you.

Description
within the picture
placed with delicate precision
on the stand next to my bed.
                                        within the cigarettes
                                        i smoke - one after the other -
                                        night after unending night.
within the flirtatious encounters
i have with other women
while wedding band and the
japanese symbol for fidelity
burn the skin they touch.
                                       (damn that mark they drew upon my arm.)

within the scotch; the drunkenness.
          within the laments and rage.

within the poetry that flows
           from the pen, staining my fingers
                  the color of black ink.
                  the dark color of my soul.

within it all, i delve for solace.
but nothing seems to satisfy.

                                           vain substitutions.

they do not compare
to the touch of your fingers
through the disheveled field of light brown
upon my head.
                                  to the passionate embraces;
                                  the feel of your lips speaking hidden words
                                  through the kisses we've shared.
           they burn upon my mouth yet today.
           they convict my wandering eyes
                             my melancholy disposition
              and poison my memories
                    with a happiness that belongs within archival footage
                                                            of days spent with you.

              seeking solace from the emptiness.

yet one thing resonates
                                       with each vice i pursue
                                       with wine, women, and angst-riddled song.
      none of these items
      i beg to bring me comfort
           can bring the comfort
           that comes from holding you.