Los Angeles, Again.

I am not here
In this lonely little room called home,
Anymore.

This place
Where
One day blurs
Into another
Then blurs into one more.

Pull closed the blinds
Block out the light
Close my eyes
Drift, softly into restless sleep
Soaring
On a lost melody
Drifting above a concrete
Desert in synthetic bloom
Pulsing, humming
With electric life.

I am home
Finally.
Within concrete canyons
Of
Electric
Starlight.

RUMORS OF WAR
Baby,
They’re not rumors anymore
At the sound of the tone
The time is now
One hundred seconds
Until
MIDNIGHT.

And what I wouldn’t give
For
Just a few of those
Wasted years
You know you know you
know
The ones spent weathering
The storms of resentment
And wrath
Back.

To spend a few seconds
As the second hand counts down,
Regaining love once lost
All wrapped up
In those fleeting moments
Of connection

Sleeping in the safety
Of
Whispered words that never wound
Behind closed doors
With the deadbolts locked up tight

Shutting out the cold
Closed against the winds
Of disaster

I always joke with my students
Writing is what I love most
Even though it will be
The death of me
That is
If warheads screaming
From the sky
Don’t put an end to me
first.

Before the curtains close
I would like very much
To write one more story
A story
That did not end in tragedy
But a tale
Of life
And loss
And triumph
That told itself
Until the end
Until the circle closed
And the characters healed
Lived full lives
Unbroken.