sadness as a source for song

i dreamt of you last night
i let it sit
for a bit
out of sight

and here we are
with suspicion and

sacred and sadistic
sailing single
on a saturday night

as two fires burn
one in the wood stove
and the other
in the mind

dull vision
down to the bone

salvation in the sanatorium
as satan sits silently
a silhouette
listening to
a heart song

it’s calling to me
and it’s all
coming down

wash the dishes
and take a shit

as the snow falls
and indifferent couples copulate
with a distant fury

as familiar enemies capitulate
and recede quietly into the background

as strangers receive strange gifts

as children become men
and men become (c)old

they wait
with a passive longing
for the return of a
burning white
and blinding sunrise

it’s all sophistry
on a satirical scale
measured by bloated bellies
and a simple form
of sectarian solace

and too many of us are left alone
waiting for impersonal communication
some, strong and empty
others,  tired and weak
we soldier on

no ending

at times like this
even the beer
begins to taste
a little stale

solitary and unsolicted
we are lit with simple
and soul-less sorcery
some dreams are better
left in sleep
waiting for tomorrow
the sun-day


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