Another Day of Solitude

another day of solitude.

two Ospreys fly through the corners of my eyes.

it is here I wear their rags of richness lost

tossed and turned with an embryo

of inherited disease.

what price I pay for what I cannot touch?

somewhere inside the red veins of the sun

it has begun

eternal life now shines it's olive-green on pastures new.

now it bathes in silk

weaves it's web of a rusted chrome

where water stands 

so shall I crave my daily dose of nicotine and ash.

there is a hunger to be found

as hungry and profound as all I dare to mingle with;

three wishes for this Gemini

where Cohen, you and I

pretend we are more subtle

as we hang ourselves beside the mistletoe

where lovers weep

with disgruntled pigs in a wooden box

with my gold and my cotton and pearls.

faith is as ill proposed

what price I pay for what I cannot touch?

I am neatly packed

so shall I miss the one's I loathe the most;