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
Sifting through pain in search of growth
Pyrite in all its glitter
Could never amount to gold
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.
I used to cry over the lines
At my ability to draw outside them.
Whether it was pen,
My concentration would slip
And imperfection would strike again.
So why, after all that,
Do I find myself stuck
Wanting nothing more than to escape
Those lines I tried so hard not to break
Feverish skin is reigning in
Cool nights start to tame the weather
It’s good to have this back again,
Autumn’s never a bummer.
Even when things are touch-and-go,
(Lost, apart, the “I don’t know”)
I’m able to find comfort in
The scents of fall, the color.
Toothy grins are carved into
These ghosts are friendly, now.
Our old memories go out to wander the town
What if in the end
They cut us down,
And all that’s found is the rings.
The circles presenting our being
Our our repetition.
The only thing left of our potential
Rotting there in the ground.
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
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,
Sometimes still I imagine a shape,
Silhouetted beyond the balcony door.
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.