la conciencia de su fe es seguro que vengan a ti

crisp quiet slips from lips

communes with fingertips:

trips falls in slight split

in cusped aged hands in prayer..
cool breeze pick pockets dreams,

leaves penny for change (not wise and despised)

to turn on dime, changing a frame of mind,

I can no longer afford.
I place stones in my pockets

to measure my weight against despondency.
I want to be heavy!
I move through shape shifting hopelessness,

attaching myself to the blue print of your existence.
I mean if not for your avoidance,

how would I know I was truly alive?
cobblestone sheets I sleep

heartbeats racked with the irregular gap of footsteps

drum the inevitable.

pounding, gripping tightly against my flesh and bones.
I try desperately to pull the dirt and mortar

to cover my eyes,

push back against the back drop

dropping angered silence a top my head.
IT IS ALARMING
I stage fights against bitter memories

slithering through me.

Destroying every THING and ONE I aspire to be..
Choking on sullen ponderances

I offer my soul to thee?
My God have you forgotten about me?
or am I not your people,

the descendant of Hosea

unyielding.
Withstanding...

to be continued

kdtaylor, 2009
Section 8 Coffee
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