Dust We are, to Dust we Return

All in all we are but dust, all dead as dust in the path of darkness, faithless revolutionaries jumping on religious insanity, may be we’r better off this way and this be me walking away, some day I might just look back and cry what a fucking disappointment you were to me. So this is me walking away.
A blood red sun set on yet another day last shimmers of day dying upon a thousand waves. Nicotine slipping away, loosing its touch every moment to day. And there I sat killing the life out of me, slowly intoxicating a stubborn mind, illusions a thousand fold drop of heaven above into me, bliss in the mist of chaos. If only a steady flow could seep thru unhindered, but then again this is life and a harsh tap awakens me from a deep bliss. The anger pumped up over and over seems to burst thru, anger filling up, I open my eyes look in to you, and silence touches me, the harsh awakening seems ages ago yet you seem so close, was it fate I chanced upon you.The stars fly by the earth moves yet there i sat oblivious to time. But then again you had to go, like water slipping away from my palms, disappearing into the dust and chaos. And I walk away, returning into the dust myself.

On some Morning

Sleeping over the cold floor feeling returning to my numb feet, and there I lay half awake with a head ache thinking of a thought that never was and will not ever be. The alarm goes the sad tone sickens my being I unfold myself from the tangled rag I have been using as my last defense from the minute blood sucking beast. And I sit there in the twilight the vision of my disorganized room floods my vision. A tiny point of light on my supposed bed only the glare of the sun on the camera lens, a smile cracks upon my face, the last of my joy still resist the darkness. I half crawl and walk towards the window its still dark for the most part, the moon still bright far away a crow greets the dawn, the gate keeper snores, I take of my jeans fumble in the grey dark and get hold of my towel walk into the dark damp and dead cold bathroom and walk into a rain of warm water; at last most of my body awakes from the dead chill. Feel my way for the soap I don’t find it, switch on the light, it blinds me a few moments later I rise from the floor still dazed by the sudden light half surprised I am not facing a prison search light, finally I find the soap under the sink don’t remember leaving it there. A couple of minutes or a hour later I walk out into the cold and leave a trail of wet silver to the room. It’s a bit more bright now, clouds of dust swirling and twirling in shafts of light and I am thinking of snow some where in Russia, it’s a wonder people call me pessimistic. The shoot of bamboo the only green apart from the grotesque figure of the hulk lay illuminated in the dark brown medicine bottle. I put on my tracks and a polo shirt, and walk thru my house that seems smaller, the walls some how imprisoning me, run my fingers over the cold metal of the door lock click it open and step out into a rush of cold wind, trop my self down the steps and skip my way out into the morning light, thinking of a time far gone by. And as I walk out I plan my day just as always I find my self on a path I never meant to take.

A Fair Meeting on Dark Paths

I chanced upon her, a few days back between the smoke and fumes, on a road littered with the remains of fire crackers, there our eyes met amid the sparks and flames, sweet smoke exits into a failing circle of white, those keen eyes shining golden brown, I knew it could not be for me I walked away lost in thought, when the 4 ended and the 6 began I did not know but the cigarette was at its life’s end I reached again for the pack the thought of chain smoking came into my head it was easily pushed away but that second of thought, that small distraction and the lighter slips time slows down my hand drops I feel the cold steel on the tip of my finger, but then it bounces out and then there an other dent
I bend down to retrieve my prize and then out of the conner of my eye I spy her again was she following me or was it just chance I straighten up and walk away, light up again and drift back into peace. I push her out of my mind its getting easier to do that of late pushing things out. but then again I turn and there she is following me faithfully I wonder why. Why? Does she follow me is she afraid, does she seek my help, does she need some thing, but then what do I have to give? I ask her point blank and straight, she continues to stare into my eyes, I turn away and walk slowly she moves like shadows in water swift yet slow easily overtaking me in a few strides I watch her she guides me on to paths I once walked a long time ago, and then she stopped as if to let me know she was waiting for me, it was a strange feeling of belonging, a smile broke upon my cracked lips. I walked up to her and stared back into my eyes I bent down and sat on the ground and stared into her eyes at last I put out my hand , her fur was sleek and soft it was a rich black. We walked more and she led me here and there it was nice to have company for once I didn’t find my self wanting to run away, nor the fear of rejection. It weird when all else fails and I take to walking dark roads of my subconscious mind, I find peace from a passing friend.
Never have I looked down upon them but I feel I have not honored these fair creatures enough. They are noble, and kind I heart, wise yet playful, the stars shine in their eyes yet they trod the streets as beggers, but royal is their heritage.