Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Visits At Your Grave

i parade the flesh of an old dear friend. then you come to me in my head.
and even when they claimed you dead, and lowered you into the ground, i knew you were close, around.
the spectators are screaming and they appear panicked, but i know deep down they wish they were participants. oh! they think it ridiculous? i might appear uncivil with the skin, as it's waving in the wind. i swear we were of kin.
and now i'm not sure what this is all for. i thought if i reminisced with the organ i remembered most, it'd be something you'd jump in, and we could hug uninterrupted for minutes on end. oh! that skin is my friend!
the presentation is something i've been wishing ever since i distanced myself from the colonies of people who frequent their library of emotions on an everyday basis. oh! i'm the craziest?
and who am i to stand alone, lifting my head when only i heard - you.
people reacted were wavering, their very pieces coming undone. some would melt in the sun, break from the fun, my head filled with delirium,
the fever i'm running has gotten so high, although the degrees mean nothing to me, i'm having some trouble. and there you are ahead, and the skin i was holding is now unfolding in front of me. it's you i see.
and suddenly i'm not so troubled, and  you come running, and we land in an embrace.
oh! your face! this was not the mistake they all claimed it would be. it's the best i've felt, we're back together, the way i remember.
i'm so happy, i'm bouncing, aroused again by you. the years that have passed feel like nothing.
i stepped through a time warp, a lesson in fine art. oh! nothing could keep us apart?
now, since there is no catching up to do, we lay in the grass. my head in your lap, and i look up at you, and for once i know exactly what to do.
but you're becoming faint, glistening in the sun, i know you'll go missing. oh! the love!
but before you're gone, i have to let you know, how devastated i am that you'll go.
and something i never expected, you tear up, and look me straight in the eye, it's like i'm waiting to die, not you.
and the words come loose - "when on your knees, and i'm not there, take a stand
and instead of grappling with your feelings, accept that maybe you're healing,
let my memory go. let the mesmerizing thought of me not ending, escape. it's an impossibility, we knew it'd be - oh! only temporary!"

Friday, February 7, 2014

The Horizon Stands Alone

standing upon my deck made of distress, i look out at the yard, covered with white. and the farther i look out the more grey it becomes. and if you pulled up those oak planks that make the deck you'd find at least fifty corpses. ones of love, friendship, the briefly acquainted, the souls who dropped when they caught a glimpse of the future laid in front me (something i can't ever see because i'm within it, and the passage is dark so only those far enough away can shed some light upon it). however, there are also ones that belong, the beasts, and domineering, the radical engineer who stole a heart that was so close to me, i thought it belonged. the damnation they must feel is something i can't fathom, and when i set out to the find the god i believe in, i'm sure that's the first thing i'll ask. why do some us have to spend such time suffering?

back on the deck and the cedar is unfinished. unprotected from the elements, i can relate to that. and it's all quite like the book i'm currently rehearsing. the lines etched in my mind, they come out at unpleasant times, i need to reschedule the mind. and blink ahead in my eyes.  a practice that no longer is preached, i reach out for my memories and they grab back. the past that i allowed to consume my present,  the one who acted as my co conspirator for all the grief stashed away. and it might create a certain scene in ones mind, me standing upon my enemies, i acted willfully. don't let it fool you, a picture paints 1,000 words, but not this time. and yes you can argue perspective, but i don't have access to yours.

and there is no perfect horizon - like the one i imagine miles away in the midwest. flatland could do such justice to what i'm feeling versus what i'm acting out. my horizon is hiding behind houses, and trees mainly. but there is the occasional outlandish, gigantic sort of heartbreak that smears the horizon, and lets it fade what should be close to perfect. i reach out and draw the imaginary line with my finger. what-should-be has ruined a lot of my opportune ventures. the blurred lines between the sky and the ground make everything a bit more surreal. it often leads to a sort of state of confusion on my part where i have these mishaps where while at my destination i'm unaware of the steps i took to get there. or i take a count twice, and still can't come up with a number. these steps and numbers are minuscule but the mere fact that this happens concerns me. then i forget. i've turned to writing things down, small notes. then people ask me what they mean, but i haven't the slightest clue. something about a cover up. is it criminal or exposure. do i need to call the station and tell them what i know? would i turn myself in for all the crimes i commit, or just the ones that haunt my daily life, the ones i remember, that leave me dismayed and buried in dilemma. catching up with myself is weekly task, i tend to rewrite the history books and add some pomp where it never belonged. and a tackle box that i repeatedly tell people i go fishing with, the solitude does me worlds of wonderful god-like goodness, and i suggest to them they try it out. solitude becomes more socially acceptable if you're terrorizing fish in the process.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

The Flat Minds Who Passerby

   i minded my business for so long, i've forgotten how to approach you. and i imagine you're still the same but as soon as i'm close enough to get a look i'm scared and i back off. yes, i know you say it everyday i betrayed your trust, but i'm truly sorry, and when will that be enough. you know it's nothing i can make up. or take back.  i've spent a year trying to make it up to you and i've gotten no where. and someone said to me the other day that people don't leave where they're loved and now i wonder if that's why you've stuck around. i'm just a thorn in your side, but i love you, and maybe you've grown used to the pain. i ask for more though. i want more. let me see you when you're vulnerable, it's been so long. i wiped away a hundred tears, but it never mattered because i brought them all on. those tears that i founded, and i can't express how much it hurt me to see them. and maybe everything with us has always been too real, and maybe its time to let go, but neither of us have prepared, and so we're stuck in a sticky sort of purgatory. it's only a matter of time before one of us stumbles upon something we're willing to walk away for. it might not even be better, just new and overflowing with promise and possibility. and it might wreck us individually because we invested so much that we had nothing left on an independent level. is that what broke us down? i mean up? will you ever be mine again?

     when we're in the same room, nothing can keep me away from you. and yet, during our time together there were these unexplainable transgressions on my part where i lost the ability to see what was right in front of me. you held me so close and tight until i broke loose for minutes we can never get back, the ones where the mistakes i made take place. and from your point of view they stained everything that came before, and everything to come. i took up walking, the fresh air did me good, but mostly i couldn't stand to be in the room that i lost you in. at least the one where i physically felt you give up. the rust shattered, and the pictures all fell. the momentum of your letting go proved so spontaneous and blunt, that i never stood a chance at understanding. and i'm not sure if any of what i'm about to say is true but for me, at that moment (the one where i lost everything) you gained enough to find things that you never even thought to look for. i turned into a shadow, cast by you, yet overlooked and left alone. my heart ached and i prayed that you could once again cast a light on me and and use it to stop seeing all the horrific things i did to hurt you. i feel the punishment has had its place in the back of my head, where its taken up residence, and it lacks gratitude in its stay there. but who am i to send it out on it's own. and we're both so sincerely feeble, but i force us out to the front yard, and it's there where we start playing double dutch. it's hard with only the two of us, but we're determined and tie the rope to the ugliest tree in the yard. and everyone walking the block has a misguided judgement about us being immature and cozy, complacent. what they don't know is everytime the rope passes by our faces we take in a misfortune, then we spit it out. and the turns of the rope take forever for us. we want to reach out and stop the game, but we're buried with guilt and the spectacle helps.
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