That Time Poem by Chris Tiganescu

The nights grow colder, the whisp of loneliness
invading me, the wanting to crawl away, through
the bloody dirt and the gravel, as the world
breaks at it's hinges, I continue to linger the path
with no hand to lift me when i fall none to wipe
the tears engulfing my eyes, pebbles cut
my weakend knees as i crawl on these hands...


Won't time turn back, to the time of
happines ever lasting, pain ever gone,
the love is gone, the word is bleak,
world in ruins as the ground gives way
and the weak fail to walk the straight path
and I with my head brought low, my hair
dangling in view, cracked at my feet the
ground is a tomb waiting to be made
for the man who stands on it...


The Innconce is lost, the righteous hand black as
the night that seems to never brighten. My
body the instrumnet of the devils pleasure, i cant
free myself from his reigns, the thought run through
my mind and I adrift in it's sensuality blind to the
world around me, lips once meant for pure now for
the woman for whom had been innocent no more...


Sensuality is the curse of the
human nature. It's lust nearly
impossible to cage, the feelings
drain over your body, and thoughts
never meant to be thought rush
over. From the red sea to the
glimmering greens of the other end,
no matter what beauty may lay there.
There's a single black spot waiting,
watching for that single moment
of weakness before pressing forward
and steeling everything from you
with nothing to look forward to but
the smell of a dead air under your
aching feet, and the sensations
of the lonely night...


So again i cry out...


Where is that time...
The time i had loved...
The time i was loved...
The time lonely was just a word...
The time i was me...