THINGS ALWAYS CHANGE
Candice James
Copyright 2009
These cracks in the floor of my mind
Show me there is a darker reality
Than this gas lit world I stumble through.
I try in hopeless desperation to slip into
One of the many shadow beings
That drift across this blazing landscape
Like vapor ghosts clouding my eyes
With wisps of fog and lost sentiment.
The journey and the tedium
Have somehow switched identities
And fallen into a sea of broken glass
The color of dark burgundy wine,
Red blood, and luxurious purple dreams.
It’s a stained glass teardrop kind of day
That just won’t quit. It dampens my
Twilight moments and sweetens nothing
Except the salty residue of each teardrop.
Blades of grass keep whispering my name
Behind my back. They speak of the jungles
They’ve whisked my unsuspecting feet toward
Where vines of emotion kiss my ankles as I
Continue my perilous climb out of this delirium;
Out of this destruction; to a new rebirth.
Things change. Things always change.
Myself and I are living proof.
Part of me turned left and strutted down a
Path of crumbling righteousness and
Burned out ghostly palaces.
Part of me turned right
And stumbled aimlessly down a gravel path
Of phantom heartaches and funeral pyres.
Where memories fade, break, die, vanish forever.
We used to walk all our streets together.
Now we walk each avenue alone wondering
How we lost each other along the way.
Things change. Things always change.
Myself and I are living proof.