Thought (Never Made)

He dwelled by the murkey waters
of horror,
and shame.

The ripples in the lake
moved the dirt
toward his ripped-string-shoes.

Mud over dust,
over the salty tears
of hollowness and fear.

The broken skin on his chest
a thoughtful reminder
of instances gone.

The awkward look
of abandonment in his eyes
surveyed the path ahead.

A triad of numbness
waltzed its way to his ears
and hummed a disonance –

Variations on a theme of Paganini,
of Dante and hell.

Being afraid
while the parade makes its way
he suffered until the last moment
of pain and dismay.