Michael Maul Poems

As I walked to work I picked up a rose that begged to be sniffed. Delicious in it's innocence I was overwhelmed with a sense of security. My childhood came rushing back in an instant. Back to a time before I knew of betrayal, lies and deceit. Nature is nurturing to the innocent. At it's worst a thorn can not spread a rumour. Water is sustenance. My email serves as a contradiction to my existence. Paperless billing is a demon disguised as a child who fills a room with laughter. As an adult I see the rose for what it truly was, is and will be. A rose is a reminder of a life I don't deserve nor want, but need.
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Tears of a weeping willow on a tree lined street in Biloxi indulge my depression.
You have earned every emotion you own.
Clouds of wisdom pass on the knowledge of the universal truth.
Death never looked so inviting as it does to the hopeless.
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Tired eyes within an expression of lies.
Modesty sold to both youth and old.
Peering out of an unseen future.
Days spent in a sweatshop to pay rent on a house occupied by a phantom with no name.
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Taking it all in as if truth were subjective.
Truth is what you tell yourself it was, is or will be.
How do you flush out a sensation that you borrowed from someone you admire?
Authority was put into place to control the ability of the species.
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As I wake up in a cold sweat from a night terror I cannot forget my mind unravels.
Anger has become an emotion I invest in with no interest accrued.
My torment is in knowing as the days grow longer my tolerance is becoming shorter.
I am programmed to obey my chemical imbalance if only to believe I am in control.
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As I stare at the night sky my mind wanders to a place I dare not go during waking hours.
I lied to the moon for a moments satisfaction that I will not experience again.
Death is having to live in a state of lucidity without reprieve from the horrors I have known.
As I serenade the angels of my better nature with a song of apathy which has no lyrics I am comforted by a truth known only to the universe.
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For a little less
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A time of desperation that collapses unto itself.
Bleakness is a metaphor for unoriginality in a world consumed by chaos.
Lovers tease eternity to justify their contempt for one another.
Why does my seasonal appreciation require a void in acknowledgment of the species to which I was assigned?
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As your beauty commands my attention I ponder my place in the grand scheme of things.

Were it not for my weakness she might lose her vanity which masks itself in a lovers promise of tomorrow.
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My belief in happiness through another human being has left me jaded.
Breakfast in bed turned into flowers for the dead of a relationship that once bloomed.
I prostituted my worth for a dance with a destiny that did not belong to me.
For a person like myself a life of dread needs no convincing
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