Both Sides

“What can I do to save my friends from the same things that still try and destroy me?” – Tim

Seeing red, the devil in the details,
so widespread,
and I can see you bleeding from here.
You’re teetering on the fence:
the one side- a sewage drain, blackened stains, sulfuric air,
fallen in, knee deep & stuck,
corralled into the waiting cypher, where no one visits and nobody cares– no one that hasn’t already put up with enough.
On the other side, the grass looks plush,
clover underfoot, green/lush,
a spectacle; the propensity for charm,
the taller stalks of mint, backwashed into the soil.
Fresh scents, crushing the memory of pungent elixir,
weeping into the air,
lost it’s charm long before you ever got there.
Far too late to turn back now,
churns your heavy heart, aching limbs;
towards that insurmountable gape.

We never truly get there, we just keep… walking–
towards the sun, no longer your enemy;
towards the light, into something better than ‘right’,
that place you started and quickly devolved,
the awaiting fallout, pond scum and wet brain…
no family to absorb your sick,
your lonely– your pathetic reach for one more drink.
Knowing well, you chose the side where things don’t go to die.
The devil patiently waiting for his turn… as you turn your back.

Garage Stalemate

Digested and spit out.
Look at what we’ve become.
All the things I’ve done.
You thought we’d come around,
the passing traffic pays no mind
to the hum; streets and pavements
grounded over a lifetime of small favors,
repairs and traction for us to run each other>>>>>
out of our lives.
Who knew this place was sarcophagus-like
and stripped of imagination?
Pulled the vehicle in slowly and let the engine run,
no daylight exhumed and the garage door shut.
I manage to escape the fumes
because nothing can exist in the dark,
smothered by exhaust
deterred by retaliation.