I chase
Derivative death
From a feeling
Not quite special
Which kills me
Far too often
In the sense
There is no cure

For daydreams
Calling bluffs
Of a sadness
Nearly common
Like falling ill
At moments
When our truth
Is hard to take

Passing out
On chairs
Expecting
Final answers
With remedy
To this panic
That builds
Upon our woes

Seeking
Easy cures
Beyond this
Daily practice
Of an empty prayer
Which buries
Our bodies
Fallen sick

As medicine
Keeping faith
While the symptom
Offers solace
Instead of
Plaguing instants
Where happiness
Hurts us more

Like chores
To mind such pain
Through hope
So surely wasted
From experience
Truly joyless
By the scares
Within our soul –

A slow
And public end
As I narrate
Without reason
My sudden
Crucifixion
That’s routine
Each day I wake

Awaiting
Bloodless sweat
From the scars
You cannot witness
But learn
Are merely weeping
By perception
Standing still

Though I argue
Flesh is fake
Upon learning
God is distant
As that grief
Within my lashes
Across this back
Exposed

Tells of
Mortal woes
We share
In wounds together
As light
Our lifetime passes
Never gains
Its reason why.

– J. Pigno

My mind
Is a terrible place
Where I never
Learn
Without feeling

What masked
And obscure
Knowledge
Makes tomorrow
Seem unsure

Though I wrestle
Death on page
While this inkwell
Stains
With anguish

Each sentence
Raw and beating
For the heart
That’s bound
To pause

And speak
At slowing pace
Of a lost
Yet telling
Rhythm

Bleeding voice
From passion
When the truth
Has fallen
Black

Among bones
And precious filth
Housing words
In tombs
Transparent

Which unearth
My final grievance
As a man
Whose phrase
Is dirt

Beneath
Such rotten dreams
That demand
I argue
Freely

Out of grounds
Below
Deep soil
Which imprisons
Who I think

Are the fears
And nervous dreams
I can dig
In hells
Unworthy

Where escaping
Empty pleasures
Is the lie
I long
To touch

Repeating
Hurt as weak
But revealing
God
As pressure

Like a stone
Atop my body
Weighing down
This time
I seek –

Wishes
Not fulfilled
By the choice
We make
If trying,

Cause the answer
Isn’t living

For perhaps
It’s somewhere
Else.

– J. Pigno

I’ve lost
What words remain
In this dull
And somber white
Which builds
Through raw
Indifference
My vague
Yet growing chill

That speaks
Like stoic snow
With a blank
Yet real expression
Of such bare
Though humble
Willingness
To confess
These sudden flakes

As a storm
Not wholly armed
By those winds
And glacial padding
Which lord
Their cold
Disinterest
Over phrases
Nearly warm

Believing
Fires wane
Where this wood
Is always dampest
For the time
Our phrases
Stumble
Among chances
Dark as night

Where stars
And other light
Find God
Between each
Sentence
Like truths
From barest branches
Or a meaning
Meant to last

When our fear
And broken wish
Of that lush
But bitter landscape
Falls softly
On this passage
While the deer
Escape
Its wrath

Chasing
Empty paths
Pursuing dreams
Unwritten
As each poet
Faults
Their maker
For losing hope
Beneath

Shoveling
What is said
Like digging
For some answer
During winters
Uninspired
With a whimper
Old
And weak.

Those tracks
Cannot be seen
As the air
Blows ice
Unwilling,

No soul
Or frigid whisper
Can find
My voice
That’s stale.

– J. Pigno

I won’t even
Try to hide
These changes
Growing evident
By a smile
Held inside me
Since the moment
You said yes

Despite
Those nervous claims
Out of fear
Our hurt should linger
Where pasts
Are always waiting
For their reason
To exist

And conquer
Second dates
While the chance
Of nearly winning
Is a triumph
Come acceptance
By the cost
Our losses chance

Threading
Common fates
From the tears
Which bargain service
At the beckon call
Of angels
Whose challenge
Brings us life

Out of grace
We can’t deserve
Despite such
Woven pictures
On horizons
Fading quickly
And approaching God
Possessed

Repeating
Choices made
So our failures
Learned as lessons
Are the mouthpiece
For these answers
Which secure
This happy home

Before
It’s even saved
From a dream
We can’t be certain
Is a night
Beyond that moment
When a kiss
Brought futures bright

Through stars
Within our midst
Among these scenes
Victorious
Convinced that love
Has endings
Like films
Shot by mistake.

– J. Pigno

What is loved
Always ends
In tears
For the sake of us
Learning
We’re worth it

Through each pain
And collected
Experience
By a sum
Of incredible
Chance

Just knowing
Our moment
Passed
To create
That expanding
Division

At a distance
Hinged
On emotion
Which elicits
Truth
From our hearts

For the turn
Such minds
Can’t grasp
Across decades
Gapped
With decision

Where freedom
Forces
Our nature
As a circumstance
Damaged
By time

To delude
Those emotions
Wished
Were expressions
Bound
For repeating

While believing
Dreams
Of our leisure
Are the answers
Held
Near death

Assuming
One final
Breath
Between hope
And a future
Wasted

Are the lies
We’ve tried
In question
Out of fear
Of truths
Untold

Like a tide
Most souls
Can’t wade
But instead
Fall deep
When choosing

These differences
Called
By religion
As our testament
Written
For man.

– J. Pigno

These days
Are short in number
From the time
Our minds can
Realize
All worry
Is a wasted effort
Which hastens
Nothing
But pain

Despite
How hearts can change
Over spans
Of years
Turning decades
Into journeys
Riddled with failure
That is purpose
Taking
Its toll

From balance
Playing our parts
As agony learns
What we witness
Is sacrifice
Making us
Better
To admire
Death
As a whole

Like deer
Within endless woods
Quiet
Content to be waiting
For their hunter
Bound
To be killing
Such fragile
Souls
That are weak

Upon faith
With gentle hooves
Among leaves
So fallen
And desparate
To be one
With this ground
Below them
As they struggle
Through colorful bliss

Proving
Hurt doesn’t end
As loss
Is a season
Grieving
Where beauty
Is cyclically
Fated
By nature
Alive but brief.

– J. Pigno

It wasn’t
Until many years
Later
How I realized
You meant
Every word

Each gesture
Wave
And confession
In the hands
Which spoke
As they shook

While you emoted
Loud
On their stage
For approval
If not
Reassurance

From the ones
Who’d never
Accept you
Even after
I told
They would

Acting
Like someone
May care
When your daily
Speech
Met with laughter

For the ears
Then straining
To listen
At a genius
Not knowing
They should

Like mine
Now admitting
This sin
For a friend
Whose place
Is conviction

Understood
As hope
For the kindness
Lost only
To hearts
Without faith

To remind me
God is not
Vain
When belief
Is a certain
Affliction

Like appearing
Weak
Or unsettled
To an audience
Begging
We stop

Judging
These roles
That we play
As childish
Games
Of forgiveness

For the ways
We seek
Our fulfillment
Through a wish
Of such fantasy
Made

And our failures
Young
But inane
As this chance
Which brought us
Together

Letting you
Know
I appreciate
That fact
How you always
Were there.

– J. Pigno