Stalemate

See life and death in a battle of wits.
The outcome of the battle, of course, is fixed.
Death always wins at the end, it is true.
But life is valued more highly by you.
So who wins the game? Who takes the prize?
Is it death's mourning or life's precious sighs?
For every life surely comes to an end.
And every death brings life once again.

Fragmented Questions

You and I are just heading in different directions.
What is that supposed to mean to me?
That I am going down while you are going up?
That I am getting worse while you are getting better?

Are you making some form of progress
you just haven't shown to me yet?
Are you improving your life in ways
you haven't been able to express?

And please, don't do things for me
when I never asked you to do them.
And please, don't answer my requests
with something other than what I requested.

No one, seeking specific reinforcement,
has ever been satisfied with an alternative
form of compliment or flattery or love.
Instead, you deny by omission.

And in that denial I wonder whether
something else lurks, couched in dismissal.
Things you've said in the past, admittedly
intoxicated, still sound in my mind.

Were they warnings? Were they promises?
Were they signs? Were they lies?
When did we become opposites?
When did we become alone?

And at the conclusion of our friendship
I feel more like I have lost a lover
and less like I ever had a friend
than I did when I first met you. 

Quarter To Five (AM)

Like a bell that will not stop ringing
Insomnia is persistent
Overcoming any attempts to drown it out

All noise and light and sensation
Becomes louder, more irritating
And somehow even sleep seems painful

The very worst part of it all
Is waking up the next day and
Knowing you'll have to do it all over again