I am empty hallway just passing through

I am removed from what is real
A bound ghost inhabiting empty halls once filled with pain
Echoing fading laughter bounces against the dark deeply stained wood paneled walls
The glimpse of running and the slight thumps
Too quick out the corner of the eye
Heart threads faster
In the empty quiet
A stillness
Without you

Pawns of a waking dream

There was a time when I thought I could teach the world what it could be
Thought that shaping words and connecting thoughtss
Invoking emotions and making manifest not just desire but forming reality to will
Would somehow resonate and works its way beyond my borders
Would transform those it touched and somehow reshape a world dying

As days and years passed
I gave up on those thoughts that bloomed as a redolent flower which strutted and strived
Glitzy and hollow
Grip slowly relinquished as new life broke the mold of what was making me into what would be
And in the chrysalis of new beginning
A blow to the heart set me spinning away from one path as time and history rewrote itself
And I
At junction
At crux
Was cast out
Flotsam on the river of causality
Chrysalis hardens to shell
And denied outward growth
The only way out became down
Deep through pain and loathing
Into depression which had always nibbled at the edges
And now gloried in being centerpiece for a captive audience
Deeper
Core out each piece
And discern crystal or flaw
Raw and wriggling
Pink remora leaving behind fresh wounds but dying alone on the cold pavement
Each passing year a broken memory until tattered cataclysm in shredded throat torn again and again
feeling as blood and pressured release
Scream frequency finding harmonic resonance
In shell long past useful
And burst outward infecting
Killing what it touched
And still a bit remained
A blade sheathed beneath bone
A weapon of times long gone
Master no more and wielded wild-eyed
Agony as all walls fall and what was out caresses newly formed akin
Until pleasure and pain are just two ways of speaking and both hold no discernable sway over the other
Instead, both in their firmament
Gods bestride a world of flesh
And I mistress and master
Betrayed broken and each broken rib pierced breath
Imperceptibly easier

Until anew
A person looks out
Wondering at a world they didn’t live through
A time traveler taking the longest route through blindness to arrive in a fight that cannot be one
With coping skills that say to take a simple action
One that heart and eyes know will be unforgivable but effective
Begging anyone willing to give permission for the monster inside
Blade buried in bone
To be let free
Afraid to be allowed to be
And watching as it all burns
Silence let’s go its grip
A wave forms seeking cross and disruption
Seeking amplitude match
And growth
Seeking
Voice to voice
Until all of us
Throats raw and bleeding
In notes crystalline from cores of reflected shatters
Speak
Sleepers
Wake!

Last dance of the bee in the chilling autumn

Words slip out promising blood and lust
Naked lies wander into mouths
Taking residence in sleep murmured dry tongue dreams
Eyes dry heavy ponderous
Eyelids closing against bags packed for undetermined future
The only certainty is that I’ll be there to second guess each maneuver
So sure in the daylight on the road to another me
Until days wind down
One mask slips while another rises and whose to say which if any is real
Or is it only in transition where no expectation pulls that I am free to explore a self grown tired of racing from one hope to the next
Blurring time
Lost years
Reclamation tastes bitter when you find that what could be has passed by
And only what is remains

Outdistance the possibility of good

That simple smile holds back despair
That cold drink saying everything is a lie
Not even a lie
Told to be kind
But instead masks the malice of never wanted
Smiling faces
Facade drip blood
Broken branches
Nothing of the me that was remains
Only memories which fade and die
Losing coherence until only a dull ache
Remains to make eyes see
Nothing works
Not even love
And only the steep slide into oblivion
That slow churning slip into disappearance
Presents as solution

Nightmares are also dreams Part 37

I pull myself away feeling the rushing of the warm air to fill the gap between us. Still holding Tara’s hand, I guide her to the still steaming shower. A brief thought of the water bill and the chain to water conservation flashes through my mind. Considering the water table cistern proposal the Spire has considered building. All thought of such flees as the heavy spray pounds and splashes against Tara’s upturned breast.

She exults in the tumult and I slide closed the shower door. Her humming hushed by the glass.

I stand on the outside, looking through the glass as if watching a movie, then pivot on my heel and look over the beautiful pale skin of my Sara. The streaked red blonde hair giving testament to the ministrations of our love who frolics alone in the shower.

I hold out my hand and Sara rises to her feet. The soft creak of joints held in pose too long and the flush of embarrassment of this proof of age.

I pull her to me. Her nude body small against me. Her presence towers in the my mind but here, against me, I look down and see the top of her head.
I lean down and kiss her forehead.

“Come, my love, I have a treat for you.”

We walk into the bedroom. Her hand clasped in mine. I stop us by her dressing mirror and pull her collar off the hook and hold it out to her.

Sara takes it from me and, holding my eyes, cinches it around her neck. That soft thrill as she affirms my ownership of her thrums through me. Taking a ragged breath, heavy with desire, I reach over to her lead. I attach it and ball the leather around my fist. Then tug and half drag my slave-wife to the living room. The Saint Andrews cross is set up but what draws the eye is the row of leather clad heavily muscled young men.

Addressing Sara, “I give you the choice of instrument. Either these young men or the cross.”

She looks at me. The war of desire for the certainty of the cross vs the unknown of the men fights in her. I can read her thoughts of the discussion we had concerning multiple partners and the fear as she again realizes that I remember every discussion we have. And that any of it, given the framework of our agreement, would constitute an informed discussion.

With a shiver she replies, “Sir, please pick for me.”

Predictable patterns are the hardest to break

Lost my ability to be chill
Amidst the desire for more
Explanations collide with reasons
Hoping to sound reasonable
But feel like I’ve lost the thread
Wandering through the maze of my hubris
Correct
Over correct
Think
Rethink
Circle down into sweet spirals
Until you walk
Shaking your head
What did you ever see
In the hungry eyed wolf
Blunt caps
Trying to wag tail
Trying not to pounce
Waiving false flags
This is where
I become too much
And cringe back
Waiting for the blow to come

Wondering if only clashes against hearts plans

Simple aches in times ticking by
Heat without the flop sweat of humid air
Bone deep aches soothe away
Puzzle pieces trying to fit
Yearning for a trial run
For a chance to be happy
Shackled existence
Tethered to place
Instead of each other
Place becomes a clinging lover
Enticements
Inducements to stay
Wishing for the better life
Better infrastructure
Support for all you are and need
So that one day
You will rest steady
Deep in my embrace

The ache of feet masks the pain of desire

Words fail and falter
When alls said and done
Silence stretches out
Unwanted attenuation
Devour more and more
Each step towards home
Narrows the possible futures
Collapsed waveform
Looking for that one more moment
One more perfection
One more leap made
From the nebulous possible
To the simple completeness
Tired mind
Sifting through
One more word
Framework for a future?