Blackhole

Shards of icicles fall thick and fast.
Stabbing and tearing apart
The blurred smoke of hazy memories.
Shadows, whispers, echoes, name-calling, laughter.

Remember. What is it to do so?
Is it to reminiscence, re-live, partake in blessed nostalgia?
Or is it maybe drowning in self-indulgent melancholy
For all that is now past, lost and gone?

Doors close, paths forge, leaves fall, new windows open.
Do I want to stay? leave? not move?
Cynicism and mistrust cling to my thoughts and actions
Like leeches they seep into my very being.

Acrimonious contagion this mute introspection.
A shriek, a yell, a cry of some remnants of sane triviality.
Or a religion, a faith, a sense of belonging even.
Anything to shut out the mirthless satan in me.

Free Spirits

Let's chase our shadows with four amorous bare foots,
Let's jump over the restraining villain fence,
And fall if we may in the process.
At least the tender laughter we share after the fall
Would makes the crushed grass beneath us
Blush and look away in flushed bashfulness.