Sometimes I convince myself that my teeth could bite through metal
That the razor edges would do nothing to the soft parts of my mouth
That I wouldn’t bleed
Sometimes I think that I could crush glass between my fingers
That the glazed sand would find no purchase on my soft tissue
That I wouldn’t tear
Sometimes I imagine that if you were here I would be able to stand it
That the sound of your voice would be nothing but a residual melody in my mind. Your face an inkblot.
That I wouldn’t crumble.
But I know, I know, I know.
The moments tick by and I know.
I bleed, I tear, I crumble.
I am no match for the dreams that play in my head
Stars dissipate above and below.
I’m watching you move,
Horizon ticking by,
tender to the touch and yet.
You make it a habit to revisit those colors,
hoping to close this distance,
resistant to you.
The ache subsists,
I’m set adrift,
river-dark bleeding I’m
dreaming of you.
Push and pull
Out of control
Well let’s go since you seem to know
Between the click of the light and the start of the dream
When it ends,
Before it ends,
Will you keep me here in your mind
(Hidden away in the pocket of a daydream)
How much is too much to ask of you
I was hoping we could talk it through
Before you’re gone with the morning
Not sure I need to mention it but just to be safe: line five is from the Arcade Fire song No Cars Go, which is sort of what propelled this poem.
By the end of Sisyphus Part 4 I didn’t know who I was anymore
Ageless and nameless I melt in the rain
You’re doubting me, timing me,
Daring me to get up again
And is it any wonder when I do?
Do these failings still come as a surprise to you?
In a minute I’m busy.
Some thoughts they surround me
I’m barreling through the rain:
Waiting to be caught.
Wilting under and then growing into the pain
I’m finding you;
I’ll be home soon.
Look for me sighing,
Somewhere under the moon
Never know who I’m going to lose
Waste of space
Time and place
Dusty orange sunsets accent outer space
Matter of time
Lose my rhyme
And I can’t find the reason, anymore.
My mind speaks volumes
I won’t say a word
(Mama said she’d buy me a mockingbird)
Indentured to sickness
She won’t stand a chance
Bejeweled wings flutter a commonplace dance
(If that mockingbird don’t sing)
A value of equal to or less in stature than
Some thing left to squaller
I’ve muddled it, and,
(Mama said she’d buy me a diamond ring)
For too late I find, I’ve lost peace of mind,
And those thoughts are loud enough to ponder.
Clouds like liquid smoke
Unfurl their tendrils,
Tongue slipping, speaking, out of
Old and new.
Fly that balloon
Seeking the moon
Then up and around to Mars again.