almost done

"Thimble"

Unravel the red thread.  It hangs from the clear train
blowing past the sallow chute of escape.
where I've bundled my blankets for months.
erecting them like paper walls hiding from the ink of flux.

I feared they would rewrite my dreams into disunity.
scraping all the blood paints, from the portraits that I made.
smear snapshots of my blessed trail, in a doubter's dull tirade.

An elemental turn, back up rather than around
the horses were all willing, though dissenting men abound.
My voice had dissipated, against the stranger wall of sound.

These figures on the easel.  Silhouettes of loneliness
a daydream of disrepute, the crass cry of nothingness.

My neck was bound with metal.
  Loincloth clad, you dragged me to the door.
of the cavern of disparity,
it was a nightmare, nothing more.

I came about, when eyes had opened and light had flowered me.  
the gales of deception faded into nothing more than memory.  

the bridge under construction.  Zero entry, brazen night!
I kiss the foundered, feathered winds, in a stroke of brave delight.
Never! Dark remorse of passion, never touch my face again.
Stand with me, at the great inception; the reborn are greater men.

This thimble mother gave me, for the voyeurs of regret
the thread was running out, for the times of callous debt.
I've needled through your flatline love and for the even hearts I fear
that some live forever in the winter, when its emptiness is clear.