I always find myself alone.

Crowds gather, friends the same as foes,
then shatter
into twos, threes, fours, and one - me.
I'm at the center,
an ignored axis upon which no one turns his eyes
or on the rim - yes, usually on the rim -
a satellite that receives and sends no signal.

Alone I always find myself.

(from 1998)

The children laugh as they hack away,
The puppies’ throats opening, blood-red,
Pouring thick, wet onto cold, gray concrete.
Little screams and yelps mingle twisted
Against air aglow with after-fog’s clarity,
The Day’s sky smiling gold on echoes of Death.

There is no heart in heart-less souls ripped
Frying from burnt-out bodies beaten with forgotten ideals.
Will there be forgiveness or is such a thought
Just a thought conned from the minds of idols
Built with hands hopeless with a hope that will never exist?

One last crash of metallic flash, glinting steel
Shining beneath a crimson bed of dander,
And the children saunter off, teary-eyed,
A last drying drop suddenly glistening
With the heartening sight of another kennel just ahead.

I couldn’t look back
Because I’d never leave.
But I look forward
To seeing you again.
Next time, I’ll stay
And never let go.