9-4-10

On the window ledge sits such an array of items;
a half empty glass, a razor, a pen and some blank paper.

Out the window – oh what a beautiful view;
the pink sun set, the rising moon and a stillness in the air…

On the window ledge sits such an array of items;
an empty glass, a blunt razor, a pen and poem, and a hand.

Out the window – oh how the beauty does fade;
the sun has sunk, the moon’s not bright and the air is moving…

On the window ledge sits such an array of items;
a half empty glass, a tragic poem and a set of toes.

Out the window – oh how the beauty does fade;
the moon rising high, creating such a dark shadow, such a…

On the window ledge sits such an array of items;
an empty glass, a broken shard, a tragic poem and a foot.

Out the window – oh how the ugly does arise;
the sky casts such miserable reflections, the air steals these words…

On the window ledge sits such a misery;
an empty glass, a broken shard, more than a drop of blood,
On the window ledge sits such a tragedy;
a broken shard covered in blood, and a pouring, shaking hand.

And on the window ledge sits a life;
a hand, a foot – now two, a heart carved out
and thrown into the air as a body neither passes
nor fails its last lesson – to fly to freedom.