Long Lost to the Living

The pillow is empty, no head rests upon it.
Morning brings along emptiness, and the blankets are cold.
Rain patters on the window sill, no birds this morning.
I cant help the blood, it consumes everything.

The wooden floor creeks under ghostly feet,
no one is there, the door is still closed.
Dream in, dream out, hallucinations abound.
Shadows like bodies caressing cold flesh,
no one is home today, lonely unfortunate A.M.

Listen for the sigh and the snore...so soft, so soft.
I cant hear anything, all is sound asleep.
Is the clock ticking or will babes never rise?
The sun is a memory in the mind of the insane.

A blur, a sight, the glimpse, a silly mistake.
My name, he called me, I hear him ask.
Fluttering of eyes, pulse guickening, veins bulge.
No one is here, another morning dawns.

So here you are again, another day another dollar.
What time is high tide? A baby must drown today.
We see dusk from our windows, but where are we when dawn conquers the moon?
Laughter is so far away, touching, remembering.

So the sheets are crisp and clean,
but I can still smell the woods.
A movement, a breeze, folicules are erect.
Morning mistakes taking away sweet dreams,
but my heart wont let go...cruel, tedious mistakes.

The curtain billows, casting images of better times.
I touch the wall, cold and quiet,
but the movements are so surreal.
Another morning spent alone,
remembering lovers past,
and drifting between reality and memories long lost to the living.