The blue in snow


The cobwebs on the door
Broken bottles on the floor
So many ashtrays spilling over
Dirty trash can dies if sober
Empty whiskey bottles overrun
We are all blacked out from the sun
You always told me “little son

You should just hate on everyone”

At the bottom of the stairs
A which way sign but no one cares
I cannot stop the cold from blowing in
Corroded coins fill up a rusty tin

There is no phone to make a call
I’ve just been screaming at the wall
No ones ever left this room before
A shackled tragic weeping whore
I’m so afraid of
To never be let out past the door

Is this a terror or a rage
Like our voices it will change
It’s no one’s fault that we all age
But is your fault that you were dying
And its mine for running away
Now it’s mom who’s left there crying
Sold asunder lead astray
The sound of silence it cannot fade

Like a Maine accent
the winters were too cold
A crypt of the ancient
Death in a basement
a shallow goal
There’s much more blue in deeper snow
Escaping that I travelled down the road
Black ink on white a story unfolds
Poetry like truth words best untold?

Well the world is just as dusty
wagon wheels worn and rusty
No matter how far from you I’ve run
From that tomb thus become
the shadow of the sun
What you’ve taught can’t be undone
just like father. just like son
Drunken bastard you are gone
And I still hate. on everyone




2 thoughts on “The blue in snow”

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