All is Well

Trapped; in his mind, he pines, darkness would be a relief.

Relief from the spotlights showing every detail of imperfection.

Relief from the cramping in his hand (gripped tightly to sanity).


Bathed in sweat and baptized in guilt

Cold guilt eating warm spirit fed by would-be thieves in allies’ persona (and white frocks)

Cleansed of hard-heartedness, he is now humbled, destructed, destroyed, laid to waste.


Oral satisfaction prescribed at the office and home

Calming affection twice daily in one form or another

All is well.


He holds to the edge of the lifeboat, no vest in sight

He cannot float forever.


His feet move, and they keep moving, treading life

They walk downstairs to black cellars where he cries and holds himself

They take him, his feet, dancing moving his body closer to her, inside of her

All is well.


Sunrise no longer a beginning, but a choice: With or Without.



He accepts his lot (loves it, if you can believe).

He swallows black and white.

He attacks the light, foundering on worthy intent, placing pavers on the path.


He does not feel the extra weight, yet 

He hunches poor in life’s posture as the recount begins.



Each detail inspected, lashings begin, he wants to leave but can’t find the door.

Fingers are begging, begging the rock wall of memories.

Sacrificing nail after nail painting a bloody picture only he understands.


His sunrise and day begin.


Surprisingly, his feet are moving.

“What’s this!” The fractured, in unity, cheer.


He finds a handhold, solid.

His feet are moving as his heart is beating and his determination moves over the caustic darkness (forcing water from his eyes).


He smiles.


With each token tear, he knows he has won, won forever improving, even when he slips.


His feet are moving, and he swims hard against the current.

The water soiled with the corpses of those who dove to pull the drain, drain the water, and free the fear of drowning.


Tears fall, he smiles, watching the water rise.

His sorrow overflows freely and without protest.

He turns into the current, savoring salt and struggle.

All is well.