words

i look for her around every corner
but every face is different,
every fire is but smoke and embers
and they say leave it, leave it
yet every dream is of this,
every night the tedium is racing
and tiring, you and them
with their spidered interactions,
tight veins and dirty skin,
thin suitors with black eyes
crushing the light.

this mess of mine is trouble,
i cannot gauge sleep
and i split the hours
with sharp awareness,
always looking around every corner
for any sign of her intrusion,
her madness and those indigents
she brings with her,
looking over my shoulder at every sound
and fighting shadows in the dark,
warring with spiders every morning.

my lungs are hot with words
but every chance is lost,
every fire is but spark and angst
and they say leave it, leave it
yet every moment is this,
every day the wearing down
until my back is bent and my heart is quiet,
silence and still fingers
and then the dreams of you and them
with their spidered interactions,
gnarled arms and wasted lives,
men of saturday nights
dousing the flames
and crushing the light.

-S.C. Martinez