By Mark A. Leon

These dirty country roads have been my only grace
No faces, no voices, no one to save me from this place
In the light, I see a shadow all alone
Thin and dark and spiraling to a great unknown

It’s been a million miles and I only see a million more
I feel the aches and pains running down this face
Oh Lord, I’m burning in this flame, please let it pour
Pour the water of the clouds bosom upon this crackling skin

A sign
Perhaps of what could have been

No one left to feed this starving heart of mine
Deprived
Rejected
No much more of this time
My stay went fast
At times, it made me laugh and soon I sure will cry

I made a friend
Even a few
Desired the body of others and fed off that feast of the devil’s plate
Oh what a feast it was
The lovers; they taught we well
Selfish want; the gluttonous longing for the sin of the skin

Those sins remain far behind
Hidden behind rocks or buried
No longer alive, yet tattooed in the brain
Another generation, another time
Will read the words, I left behind

Too young to feel this old
Too old to beg for youth
In between
I suppose that is where we all must be
Glass wall to the left, clear as day
Black wall to the right, dark as night

Over the mountains I want to be
Closer to home, just you and me
The last mile home I seek to be
A failed dream, once again
Oh how my mind plays games on yea

The pain I feel now racing up my spine
These two feel have fought off time
But now I must resign
To a place we know, or think we could be