Didn't inhale
but sure can blow some hot air.
Modicums of privacy hidden
behind (on) a smoking screen.

Towering infernos and jet fuel
ignite charitable contribution debate.

Morning mist upon the hills,
so is my life, so briefly lived.
Did my presence cloud the scene
or living water did I give?

I soaked the Word, absorbed the truth
‘til no more could I hold.

He played a fiddle
with a wicked smile
She sang a number
with a contralto

Fiddles have to be put down
to hold a bottle,
Talent can’t mask
a lonely heart

He lost reality

I ache
when the music stops
the silence roars, but
not louder than
questions

If you
are born of the music,
it beats through your blood,
do you die
when the song
ends?

of all the things to take
my heart
still beating from my chest
my breath
still in my lungs
so I sit empty, breathless

in a vacuum
limbo
surreal

you float in space
cold, freezing