King of Tricks - We Were Skeletons

Sometimes I question my ability to write, think, act, or do

Either way I just want to go back

To not thinking of you and moving on

Like a breeze that lifts a leaf off its tree

But who’s this me?

This mess of bones and blood that just won’t stop knocking on

The door of misery

Just to act all frustrated when he answers

Another poet party crasher, a mess of so much wasted breath and ugly mistakes

Only a footprint left on the dirt of the world

We all argue, «We're trying our best!»

In which case, how pathetic

Our greatest attempts must be against such trials

Indeed innumerable

But maybe I’m looking at it the wrong way

That this puzzl (if even a puzzle) is not mant to be solved

But instead observed

Like the fog driven ships from the docks or the autumn trees

As they undress in preparation for their slumber in icy beds

And how their scarves and waistcoats bat about in the breeze…

All quiet now

Silent, yet not seething

At once simple and deceiving

Because a reflection is a conception is not real

A shadow of a puppet on the walls of the mind

Take down the shade but don’t turn out the light

Undress, undress for me and bare your body

So the light and the shadows may hit just right

I wish to be contained in you

As we are contained and consumed in night

I’m only a cord of wood waiting to be spent in the blossoming light

That crawls into the cool air cutting through a fevered haze