letters to a fiend

last night's raid
hums in my mind- the
swaying of
underground street signs
ringing with the blinding
hysteria of passing lights--
a lover's ignorance
becomes my crutch, but
no order in time
except for the illusion of
growth. no reason seen in
passing nights spent
parsing shades of
black and white--
empty hand and honest action
brushed aside in gathering
questions and fears, new paranoia
tainted moments previously
held endeared.
mind me not my disappointment,
held parallel with my enjoyment--
nothing like the awful remembrance,
always young and effervescent
lost moments and pointless times
i once knew as transcendent moments
now faded grey and ground to dust by age
and relocation's way. an evolution
bridging brides,
bringing us to the realization
(or the failure) of a destiny--
memorized in daydreams and awfully self-serving
fantasies, we're dashed upon the
evidence--a ship among the wasting glaciers,
wasting in the present (progressive) tense.