My Dead Language

This was once a living

This was once a living

You could call a life

Pure and true

Tough love

Hard lived

Embraced by dignity

Worn with pride

Now it lives in disgrace

Maybe even disgust

I feel what it means to be half a person

To not be wholly intact

To be alone in a room full of people

A life full of love

I don’t know how this works

But it does

All too well

And I know it all

I know it all too well

Each dread filled moment of joy

Turned quickly to sorrow

How easy it may seem

To turn it all around

To see it all through

But this is not a life that’s left

It’s a chore

An imposition on my soul

I am undone and I cannot

Be rebuilt anymore

I’ve never loved so little

But so deeply

I have never chosen solitude

As friend or foe

Despair

It’s what I feel

It’s how I feel

I know what I feel

Lit up like a stage

For all to watch

For all to see

A spectacle

A picture of times gone by

Times left by and by

When there is no

Time left

I know what it is

I know how it is

I know who it is

All that life

Drained and devoid

But what if it aches

What if it throbs

I know it’s true

I know how true

Wild and unabashed

The beginning of life

When it was so fresh and new

Uninterrupted by knowledge and feeling

Power in a smile, in a laugh

Wholesome and unwavering

What a sense of sorrow

I know it has faded

I know what has faded

I know I life has faded

And when I get to where

I am going

Where I am going

Not even the devil knows

How I will get there

Nobody knows

Nobody knows

I know, nobody knows

My Dead Language

Just because this days deceit

Just because this days deceit

Has wandered into my nights belief

It does not justify or warrant

That constant belief

I feel when I can hide

From myself

My worries

No sorrow

No grief

Just unburdened desires

That through my soul unleashes

Blinding yet still unbinding fury

That knows not of lamentation

It is foreign to subside

At once these holy mountains

Become great warriors too soon to divide

Even the rugged know what wound to heal

And how the glory of summers sun

So soon to truth reveal

My Dead Language

There is so much more to you

There is so much more to you

Than what I can believe in

And there seems to be less and less of me

But my heart is still strong and

My love still fierce

I tremble at the very thought of your touch

That renews me every day

Even when I’m stumbling

Even when I’ve lost my way

But I am not enough for you

Not enough for you to see

Sometimes what you really need

Is right before your eyes

And how sad for you

It will take breaking my heart

For you to realize

My Dead Language

I like your dark and your silver too.

I like your dark and your silver too.

I love your single tormented memory

That sighs beneath the air.

Shuffle me, mix me up.

Still I am the blessed dreamer,

That clutches you while you sleep

Hollow I sit

Fading

Reappearing

Making love sightless

I’ve crossed and I’ve come abroad

Still you darken

You meet my ambitious hands

Yet closer still

At six o’clock you curl

You doze among the impatient, innumerable

Palms of pearl

My Dead Language

I’ve gotten more than I ever asked for

I’ve gotten more than I ever asked for

And even less than I dreamed

The greater journey lies out there

Out among the birds

But I’m stuck here

In a life without wings

Trapped beneath the trembling soil

You’ve got your love

I’ve got my earth

I tremble too

For that’s where you grow

Under the water

Beneath the snow

Out around the daffodils

My Dead Language

You seem to promise from afar

You seem to promise from afar

From atop a mountain

And if I knew the promise of living

I would be braver than you

Yet there is something about

Your forgetful motions

Your flushed cheeks unique

And the world is happening all around us

Still I seem to waste

Threshold after golden threshold

First embrace after timid disgrace

A victory, a game

Still you advance me

You keep me dry

Somehow you keep me on your time

In your space

Just something for the unbearable

Loneliness to replace

My Dead Language

This light

This light
Seems to smooth the skin over
And move me
Into the mysterious heaven.
There is a somewhere
Beyond this majesty.
So I am told
Deep into forests green
Like emeralds-shining.
So soft like a rolling hill
But more gentle than the valley.
And yet I owe nothing.
Not to gentility or nature.
Not to poor fumbling greed.
In all these bittersweet lies
I forget
The passions I need
And the imperfect regret.