Every glance through the windshield and every peek over the dash,
is another moment, I wish I could outlast.

Falling rain drops; each, a feeling of your skin.
Breathing air 's no longer easy, since I'm breathing you right in.

I miss the days, when I'd drive all night to see you.
I miss the hours; all the minutes, are when I think I really need you.

I think upon what it is I will dream, hoping you are found there,
led by dimming moonbeam.

As night falls and spills into my eyes, I breathe thoughts of you,
still-ing mind's fretful ties.

Before morning breaks and I see day's reveal, I embrace sweet memory,
yet continually long for the real.

You are with me and I am with you. We are but one,
separate, connected, in love, made true.

“If God is the constant in my life,
then, my love, you are the variable.

Without you, it is possible I’d have visited less valleys,
but assuredly, with you, I have seen that many more peaks.

Our love is an intricate mess,
one I wouldn’t trade for any other promises.

All I hear at times
are the streaming sounds
of monsters all around,
as they surround.

Seeking release,
he stands upon a self-made precepice.
Digging his heels
into a soft-set sand that never fits.

Here is a boy,
not striving and nor is his aim for “man”;
there is not a sway
and rare a concern in way of your plan

His goal not ready,
nor can it be found or called to be steady.
Disappointed by many
and frankly has lost all care and love for them or any.

His remorse is as it be;
swift and fleeting and say fair to call heady.
The anger that stirs
is quick to rear and quicker still to be found petty.

I don’t trust myself to sleep.
Haunted by memories threaded in so deep.
I see a face; a face I have never know,
but one so lovely and dear, I continually yearn to own.

She is a beauty, in vice and appeal,
speaking words my dreams folly to reveal.
The attraction by which she lures, I do not understand.
Abounding wonderfulness that would stifle any man.

I may not remember her or you or this place in time.
Though the walls are familiar, as is the porch, the swing and the chime.
This block, this walk and this street, hold a vagueness of real,
One barely certain to me, held fairly by means of love congeal-ed.

My eyes are blanketed by dark’s enveloping sheet.
Rest? I am only rewarded by weaknesses engrossing heat.
Tears am I blinking, to drown the near obsession.
Fear? Un-wantingly I run, for dread of painful confession.

Mine is a torment, unknown and relentless.
As night draws near, I begin again to feel the strong presence.
The lurking, the enticing and the remorseless inviting,
To share in lovelies and memories that are but trifling.

More often than not, I fear, man as fallen under this spell.
Been drowned, not screaming; Gagged, not cheering; straight into hell.
I trust not the power of my will, nor the weakness of my mind,
Clear is this vixen; near is this whisper of love to be refined.
… Harsh is the levity found upon waking to steadier mind.

Eric’s anxiousness to see the sketch I drew during today’s sermon inspired me to work up this piece. I went ahead and uploaded the original photo I took, in case you want to play the “Boy’s Life” game of spotting what is different. ;) Enjoy.

He powers up and starts his day;
a few others, in tow, follow his way.
He thinks: “The day will end as the rest”
“Empty, lonely … defeated, at best.”

Stark is his joy and trembling is his hand,
to stumble upon a treasure, so unplanned.
“Consume, relish and to yourself entreat;
rare is the day when love is secured,
while a heart still able to beat!”

Squiggly worms,
given to and shaping in an
over-abundance of glee;
though warted, hairy and toothed is
how they tend to be.

Their wisdom is strong,
and though I want it much,
the skin they share, I truely fear to touch.
“Stay your distance and keep your way!
“Just shout your words
and I’ll continue my day.”

I forgot to finish this post in time to add it to the Illustration Friday archive, but I hope you still enjoy the napkin sketch and this bit of rhyme.

They amass upon the cliffs,
seeking to find an sustaining ledge.
In pursuit of a welcoming host,
their fall upon him is swift.

Dark is their interest,
deep is their intent.
From within the bellows,
they are seeking and are yet to be content.

It’s two in the morning,
she didn’t wait up.
I’d rather be sleeping,
but instead I’ll be tough.

I am so very tired,
feeling entirely mired.
Not really be life or things gone wrong,
but mainly as one with cheek to tongue.

I’ll think I should go code now,
design something pretty.
This has just been a brief intermission,
a “time-is-passing” ditty.