Can't see

Can't see very well any more the starry night
Felt footsteps follow me
The time for drifting is past and
Ninty-nine days are coming.

Hoho
He cried into the night
changing his red for the black of silk and thread
He touched her bright dead eyes to his lips and fled
into the 99.

So he passes the days as though they are kilometers
and waves to those he sees in trudge
They whaft as he gallops
into tomorrow
As the glory regresses forward 99 steps
for every backward progression.

Hoho he cries into the night
His passion torn, his anger never was
he is certain of his direction
only the night knows he is lost.
And then the days are gone.

I write for you

I write for you
my enemy of fire and warmth
When it is to cold I call you
when it is too hot, I curse you
Then you become
and slip away
I am no longer connected to that tenatious wire

Slipping free into the mud of words
the language of transition
where we would not be people if not for words but
nor would we be dying at one anothers hands
for it is the words
WORD
which leads us

I write for you
because I have no choice
of my deadly, honest, frightening addiction
I am here
and I write for you.