cascading ache

will this wound ever heal?
gaping and waiting for the full circle to arrive.
how did my heart fall out on the way side?
how did i get here?

i miss the creak, the bed that wouldn't sleep,
the rumble of my mini fan sitting in your room.
for now i am at the door to my favorite restaurant,
waiting to be seated, not expecting anyone else to turn up,
except the some stranger impatiently taking my order?

The smell is still on my fingers,
the air still lingering with the safe presence of the familiar hands i knew.
my nights now quiet, amplifying the cold and the pain festering,
pining, yearning, praying, hoping, for just one more day, one more gesture,
one more look that tells me that everything will be alright.

i'll miss the snow once again,
watching happy couples and children sliding down their five hundred dollar bill, chowing down every piece of hilarious snow flake,
imagine santa hovering above on his singing snow sledge
and memories or photographs that will never be made.

i want to get out of this loop in my head
but my hands are tied and my feet they ache.
perhaps i don't really know my saviour.
my saviour, zephaniah, mighty to save.

i remember 1983,
all dressed up nowhere to go.
watching the back of my dad fade away,
abandoning me cold, bruised and battered at the dining table.
will you save me tonight even with this mud on my hands?
will i be thrown out with the bath water again?
am i just another odd missing piece?

it's all too quiet, i don't like it.
if only words could talk away the pain,
for the loud noise of gongs and cymbals has stopped.
and the rave and rant and the fighting has stopped.
the intellectual rapture and the silly introspection has ceased,
except the hum of the hardworking reliable fridge,
the occasional water dripping from the toilet tap;
the sound of aging people wasting away.

saviour, when is my number up?