baying of the dogs

the list of offenses grows, the minds eye resolves on the tiniest misstep. what is the length of time one can suffer the most. i precisely identify each millimeter of pain and every instant of delight, any inkling of truth is lost immediately with the closing of the mind to all but the internal past and future.where is the emptiness the darkness lit with pinkish blush and tapers smoldering red and smoking. i wander as a jerusalem of the heart, split and divided, the home of god, the keeper of the broken promise.who am i, i laugh, not a question but an accusation, what have i become without wanting to become anything. this life's highway is littered with the bones of my fellow travelers, each and every already given up to the inevitable, the huge wastebasket of souls, netted and returned for more mayhem and abandonment. the truth is here in this predicament in the pain in the hopeless foraging for a crumb a drop of what it is. i cling to my battered covers and empty plastic remnants displaying them proudly, this is mine i say this is what i have done, people look away as if i am contagious, and maybe i am. theres nothing left behind i havent trampled into trash and everything i touch has the taste of molded bread and spoiled fruit. my thoughts are curdled milk and vodka shooters erupting later into alleyway walls and trash bins. what hapless creature of the night sidles through the darkened ways to escape, to avoid the light even as he proclaims his tragic dramas. i punch the clock and sleep away my life praying to my almighty self to send me a bone. i dream of crippled sheep and storm sounding horns in lighthouses tossed by waves. the holy ocean revolves inside my head and i roll to and fro with the rhythm and sicken with the tides. awake and awash with unsettled feelings its a pastime i have no stomach for, looking for my home that i burned in the dark for light and ending up here in the mist of the mind, asleep awake i cant tell anymore the sliver of my thoughts are forgotten and declined. i resemble the last clown at the closing of the carnival, the face paint streaked and the merry smile punctured with spit and tobacco, a last moment with the children and the sirens are approaching, i run with the baying of the dogs, searching for that last call of the wild from the backyard fence.