Innocence

Through bleary eyes
looking at the immaculate lines
left by a belt buckle.

The foundation of patience
strenthened by shards of pain
a repository for brutal fantasies.

A childish exuberance
blooms into a gurgle of laughter
as he imagines immaculate
red lines on a 30 year old skin.

In solitude i rest my head

i look out the open window
at charcoal outlines
smudged with a cotton swab
and begin to dream
of an iridiscent world where
colors are as fickle as thoughts

i wander aimless
amongst the ramblings of canopies
breathing deeply the air of change
unaware of my sorroundings
yet feeling perceptive
like a blind man hearing a play.

suddenly cold fear chokes my soul
i rush into that page full of coal
for i know not what lies ahead
and i am too old to be a fool or bold.