NIGHT-TIME BLUES

 

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There’s a shadow in your future

that can’t be banished without

consequence. Apate follows you

like a stalker you’re aware of,

but can’t hide from. Woodblocks

 

throb in your being, but

beat without a Metronome. Usually,

you can control rhythm, but now

the contrametric sound of

chaos crescendos in the darkness.

 

Feelings fling themselves around, as

quickly as your Presto lips, kissing

every riff that flips inside

your split decision mind. Choices aren’t

melodic when they’re tuned with guilt and fear.

 

A symphony of sympathy commiserates,

but you’ve seduced the strings of

last chances, twice before. Plucking the

moon from the sky as a gift

will not forgive you this time.

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