Oatmeal

Oatmeal

“No one means everything to me.

Nothing means anything to me.

No distant equation of love

Has ever been able to reach me.”

In space there were these beams

From glowing, illumined stone.

Like diamonds among black pebbles

On a beach so wide they shone.

The ivy climbs the stonewalled house

Twirling slowly it’s tendrils of time

Upward, in liberty unknown

To the flora that does not climb.

The tides go in and out again,

And with them goes your mood,

What was it that I said yesterday?

Was it bad? Don’t try to elude.

Today is yesterday’s hot kettle-

The life inside slowly boiled away.

We’re left with the hard outer shell

Containing nothing but memory’s stay.

Empty halls in well-to-do houses

Left in loneliness, echoes that last

From the crying of newborn babes

To the clinking twenty-first wine glass.

Words, words! Our games we are playing.

We know, they know, but no one knows.

Like Scrabble in a tornado,

They go through our heads undisclosed.