Italic= Macabre
Normal= DJB
Morning enters the room, fresh dew and the aroma of her perfume
subdue my senses mention an undescribable presence, love blooms
billowing smells loom as she turns and exits our perfect home
anxiously waiting at the phone for her call to relieve my dome
Rust crusted car billows smoke into the ozone layer,
The cars are bumper to bumper- traffic against my prayers
Country music intoxicates me..causes me to blast my horn at a whim
Realization of the worries that I've instilled in him,
Rose colored sun contrasts the toxic city,
As the waves of industrial heat seep through and hit me.
Late for an empty engagement, just a hug and kiss greeting
But I can sense my husband's dreads and fears meeting.
comb and brush and still the phone has not rang and I feel alone
I know the glow she disposed purposed protecting how she drove
still groves of worry flourished inside, my patience turned to anguish
worried the devil was the plaintiff and god couldn’t calm n relinquish
to think this was our last meeting, my memory can’t picture her leaving
left day dreaming, nightmares of a dramatic tragedy, pointless travesty
horrid thoughts badger me, senselessly wondering, how could this be
panicked filled worry engulfs me, consumes my entire worthless body
Still Nothing, Godammit.
Blood-soaked shrapnel and windshield wipers scatter the ground ahead..
Tears swim across my cheeks...two kids and a mom dead.
Steering wheel can't quite fit in my hands..trembling worry,
As the experience scarred paramedics bustle and scurry.
Sun set..toxic clouds float above sky scrapers,
Existance as machinery, mother earth rapers.
Driving in the suburbs, perfect harmony of mundane grind,
As I categorize all the problems in my life I can find.
I know he loves me, heart on his sleeve..tears in his eyes,
As he sees the news..thinks of my forgotten call, and cries.
Knowing i'm gone..assuming the worst..his bleeding heart bursts..
Except i've deceived his fragile mind, and now I feel the worst
Dingy truckstop ahead..illuminated pay phone of glory
As I dial his number..and tell him i'm sorry.
a godly desire to leave earths empire, rises higher on my list of laundry
prescribing dark thought out loud outlet my pain and aspire spiraling
boggling my senses of conception of the depths of what the events been
seepin’ reality in trough pours of weakness I realize she is my weakness
for without her I’ve fallen to pieces, and commence in becoming fasciatus
the phone rings, I hear her voice and I can breath, relax as the binding ceases.
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