Opportunity is gentle in her lust.
Emptied,
Shattered,
These particles run amok and
I miss you so much.
How silly to think this was it.
A gentleman
A vagrant
A perfect fit.
Now sinking,
A vessel of anxiety,
A boat on the high sea,
A tidal wave forgotten in this misery.
Our flame it burns so brightly
A scream rendered silent ever nightly
I wander.
Wonder.
Running into ghosts of you
Forever stuck in September.
Tag: fear
Almost-Haiku
Dreamt you wanted to mend things
Woke up in a sweat
Whispered “empty promises”
And slept.
An End to The Means
I apologize in advance for the mess you’re about to read, I just watched a movie where the dialogue/thought processes of the characters were similar to this, a sort of ongoing never-ending cacophony of words. Sort of dreamlike where you start somewhere without knowing how, and end up somewhere else without trying to.
So afterwards my thoughts were following a similar pattern and that’s kind of how I’d like you to read it. (Or not that’s totally up to you)
I was going to post it without any kind of explanation, but I wanted you to know what you were getting into. A true word-vomit of a pseudo-intellectual run-on sentence fueled by memories and fears and whatever else was going on when I blacked out and wrote this.
Enjoy. (You probably won’t I don’t think any of this will relate to anyone except me lol)
Where do you stop and where do you end and how does anything even begin if you’re waiting waiting waiting
I come to the conclusion that this was all madness and a mistake and we got to but that was your ending not mine you act like you have a right to choose when I had no say in the matter it’s a choose your own adventure which should be something mutual you decide hey let’s go to page eleven not I’ve read ahead and this is where it’s supposed to end-this is where we go and drag me along to whatever future therapist appointment you put me through and there again I see a face your face in everything and everyone and I need to live in the present but what is the present anyway standing half naked in the bathroom fallacies running running in a head that’s turning towards nothing but guesses and wishes and fears
Suddenly the kitten is the cat and the child is the woman and oh she has so much to bear how can she know it all now when she has an encyclopedia written in Spanish French Japanese and she never took her studies seriously so what’s to learn where to go
A poet and that’s all a lover and that’s all a person and that’s all nothing more just friends just hiding behind things no one wants to say or feel or judge to be true if there’s anything to judge at all I would blame you for lying and what is that anyway but a sorry excuse to be blameless when no one can be
You put on a sweater and tell me run on poetry is meaningless coming from a mind half jumbled with numb thoughts of disaster of hope of certainty dashed by someone else’s fears delusions surviving on conditional love a tired old speech falling on tired old ears that never listened when they could deny deny deny any attachment any abandonment any admissions at all
Lying for the sake of it a mother ambassador cell warden general hopped up on concern dished out in quiet mumblings a beseeching of truths too dishonest to matter a frog in hot water doesn’t realize the lies its mother tells until they become its own
A speech from lips shadowed by another’s and who could go on anyway scrounging after love after acceptance after peace after misery after missing love connection home it’s winter and there’s no one to come home to
Not the right kind not the permanent kind always fluctuating nebulous none committal cyclical hypocrisy But that’s just it then toothpaste on the counter never a lover chirping to the sound of diligent waves and a love without conditions was too foreign to calm could not be enough
Figure it out a purring sense of broken edges bent into places you never said you’d take me
The trance is gone.
The Hazards
I want you to know that I’m trying to hate you.
To put every little thing you’ve done into a box and throw it into the river that made you realize you still loved me.
Let it sink to the bottom along with your near-death and dissolve into spent memories settling into the sediment.
Sway and move with the current.
Lost love,
Lost time,
William and Margaret,
A watery marriage bed,
Left to drown under the force of a Mother’s love.
But I pulled you and I called you here,
And now instead of saying goodnight, I’ve finally found the breath to say goodbye.
Unintended Consequences
Push and pull
Out of control
Well let’s go since you seem to know
The way.
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
For awhile?
(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.
Apparition
I think of things that scare me
Sometimes in the dark of night
A scratching at the window
Is all it takes to switch on the light.
I creep around, keeping watch,
Making sure every bolt is safely locked.
I know it’s a silly notion,
Living on the third floor,
But
Sometimes still I imagine a shape,
Silhouetted beyond the balcony door.
Ex(o)rcising Thought(s)
Bruised
Used
So confused
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.
Abandon Ship
Who can see me through this guise,
My poorly hidden pantomimes.
I’m looking at my overbite,
My worry lines, unsightly eyes.
And once I’ve beaten all the drums,
The meter’s set, my day is done,
They’ve taken off all at a run
And I’ll be here left in disquiet
Paint by Number
Hot plate
She drinks Coffee Mate
While I passively expire
Inbred
She’ll soon be dead
Why don’t you come and join me by the fire
Timepiece
She’ll dress in fleece
I think I’ll go lie down awhile
Red letters
Her dress is tatters
I guess we’ll all go out in style
Metanoia
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.
Woolgathering 