Slim to none

Walking down the dark hallway
The door of the bedroom the only light
I can feel the ozone and taste the wet
It’s rained outside and I missed it
Sitting awake in my bedroom at 4am
Binge watching TV on Netflix and playing games on my phone
Looking at Facebook messenger to see who might be up
Wondering if they just left the phone on
Or are they like me
Tired but not wanting to sleep
Because we lose so much time to sleep
Because lately we’re so tired
Depression in other words
I sleep instead of think
Because that first thought
Of no one wants me
That I’m so loved but also unwanted
Just leads to spiral and sleep is better
Than falling down that rabbit hole
It’s 4am and I wonder at what my life is
Every bit as lost as I ever was
Just now I know why and supposedly that’s better but
Doesn’t feel like it
I’m no icarus to fly so close to the sun
But then I have a penchant for falling
Maybe I’m just so used to the fall that I love the sharp stop
Or maybe I’ve never stopped falling and all of this
is a dream
Or a hell

Churn and boil

They say that no one truly loves you until they see every dark shadow inside of you and still chooses to stay

But what if those shadows are not caused by murk and pain but instead cast by bright lights shining into deep holes. What if when you gaze in into the shadows and the shades feel love they burst forth in incandescence burning away their shrouds and the darkness promised from lips bound to truthfulness instead drip light

Do you feel betrayed by their love and how dare they show this deep painful darkness which is so easy to love but then switch and become joy and light. In foolishness and hopeful acts they keep moving forward, they don’t see the change so drunk on this absence of pain. They keep going and not knowing break what they sought to forge.

And Dwindling is requested, affronted by this light and their words but though some time has passed they never forgot their oath to say what is in their heart and they cannot help that what is there is love. But they do love and they do care and they say, quietly, ok. We’ll talk only about the weather and the small things with nary a serious discussion about anything. And the silence reigns and their lights turn to blood but they remember the light and they break and break and break

Until you can stand it no longer and a short sharp slap across their face wakes them from their ocean of blood and they apologize and turn their daggers inward to spare you their pain because they remember that light they felt in the failing embrace of winter

But still, they remember their oath to always speak what was in their heart and their second oath, to always be silent in those places where they once were free

And torn apart by their own words, by the words that have always been the catalyst for destruction. No one really wants the truth, their truth. Not forever. No one expects them to remember the oaths they spoke in exactness. The things that they follow. Maybe it’s not human to do so.

Maybe they should have or should now speak directly, but it is forbidden and until it’s rescinded
Silence
And these words slipped past with bare context
Are all they have
We are broken until we are whole. Darkness until we are light
And the turning, we never expect
But the fall
The fall we know all too well

Enter the fray

I’m having this problem where I can’t write because I’m happy. An envious problem to have but it makes all this noise just a bit harder to pull to signifier. Because the well of black feeling erases under the thought of you. And plans for the long term slam into place like bank vaults but it’ll be a minute before they’ll open. No swift thing, no arrow, no soon over thing. Instead a juggernaut just getting started, focused on an us. But still, my words spill out, only into your ears and not for the wide. I’d sing you aloud and scream to the sky. Reminding the deep blue of times gone by when they were dust and stars together and they were being fed up with the dawn. We are bound and bound by choose and choice and the hard truth a hand in hand, facing a future side by side

Compulsion

I feel my stagnation, a hell of creation, founded on my dreams that crumbled away while seeking damnation

I’m a false poet, or do I mean prophet, lost on the way to all that was get,

I founded my life on violence and sex then foundered on the shoals of a love that Pierced me, broke me apart and reworked me, she traveled through space and time and unearthed me

I was buried in the dirt of my own ambitions, trapped by admonitions, saying make money is the way to be happy even if it comes at the expense of your soul, these fleeting lives all have a price and a cost and I have paid for it all in bloody coins

But pulled from the ground I was raw and without skin, so used to trapping my heart in stone that to feel her hands was blood on the blade pressed against lips, and last dribble of false desire fell away and it was this pain, this agony that I needed and yearned for but trapped in the earth there was no way to feel the wind and the rain

She comes a storm and I break beneath her until her name whispers through my heart and I see the truth behind the veil and I know, and I reach that tremulous control and hold her storm in cupped hands, so easy to break her now, but instead I breathe power into her swirling winds and a maelstrom breaks to freedom and waits like outstretched hands to be joined and like that

The storm ends

And I am left broken in mud, covered in blood and bone come pattered back to too still earth, no longer stood astride like giants, just broken and soft and dreaming, dowsing, seeking, looking for a hand to see and know and wake

Reckless healer

I miss romantic love as much as I miss that blissful period when I loved only myself.
A brief time after forgiveness of things beyond my control leading up to the swooping vultures of this guy’s interesting to play with.
Or in thinking that my heart is genuinely filled and cutting it open like a pomegranate to drip seeds down hungry throats.
The pain a substitute for reciprocity
Until, woken I ask for clarification
And
In so doing
Find myself to have been alone
Or instead with pale spectre as companion
Try to shove a heart dripping juice
Never quite full again
Into a chest grown to small
Instead hold in hands
Hoping to find sharing
Or,
At last
For inflammation to cool
The swelling goes down
And fits back in chest
Or to lament that fact
Can’t make you want
More than this distance
To be admired
And loved from
Space removed
So much easier to go quiet
To fade
When I no longer see you
And the blade no longer sinks home with each smile aimed away

Tick, tick, tick

I have nothing to give but everything that I am. Unfortunately, it never seems to be enough. Is it something I lack or was there something in you that could not be fulfilled. Or am I waiting for you to say, “I’m ready now.” And, fool that I am, I wait while you seek joy in the heart of another. Or I wait until circumstances are better. Or I wait until you realize what you need and it isn’t me. Or I wait while time drifts you away.

Take a step to me. Don’t say but or maybe. Don’t wait, times is passing, regret is for the things that you fail to face not for love. I know. It’s painful to hope. I know. I’ll try not to fail you.

Flat rock floats the river


Every step is a step closer to the grave. Because what am I but a pointless gesture meandering through the simple silence of shadows cast.
Are goals so loose they may well be guidelines instead of definition be truly enough to get out of bed for?
Or am I just wasting for want of a leader.
No harness can I wear that is not fashioned by my hand.
I am horrible to lead as I question each choice and deed.
Take flight and burn in turn of phrase.
Always looking for the person who sees me through the smoke.
Obscured by my honest answers to the meat of the question.
Semantics but I like is not the same as love is not the same as desire is not the same as need.
We break and say what was I to say?
Don’t peddle love when other is meant.
I’ll settle counterweight against your love, a fulcrum to move the world.
Should it prove to be the brittle half truth of like, I’ll break in the turning.
See me, I’ll not settle.
I’m not settling when I choose your love.
But I’ll not take less than all that you are either.
What is worth if not worth all?
Selling pieces without regard or regardless.

I see.
But I’m as broken as any, perhaps more so, knowing yourself is no remedy.
Ignite, burn and be the pyre.
As I lay here fading, bereft of you.
Waiting on the turn of the wheel or a spoken word.

hearts blood brewed blackĀ 

Should I write of terrible emptiness or speak of a future so uncertain no pathway is clear?

Is the act of writing catharsis or catalyst?

Form sentences
in service to the sacred
or am I a blasphemy,
unworthy of your consideration?

Embrace emotion and be bruised by cold shoulders,
words spoken softly
become daggers when syllables drop dispassionately

Fake dreams,
distraction from a life fraught with dirt standard ennui

Or passionate pleading prayers
to an uncaring universe
that this time will be different

Burn it all in pleasures and pains
that only leave me emptied
or fill me up with poison
fermented on the vine

Drunk on sharp edges and missed schedules

Easier to say
it’s too hard and walk away
than to embrace misfortune and ill timing

No right time for love,
no perfect step, no lull in life

Just now, now is all we have
Plan a future
but start today
or watch all plans disappear
as flash paper memories

You can’t push me away hard enough
once I’ve decided to stay,
but you can walk away

This desolate desert of ablated could have beens
A wanderer
Alone
looking for water

Shallow rising of a setting sun

Give me a taste of these things that I waste
Burn me up
Beyond recognition
Can’t find ruptures
Once the skin’s broken in

Last rapturous voice
Calling me from the grave
But I can’t settle
You woke me up
But test my mettle
And found it wanting

I’m still forming
Sky metal warming
Beat me to shape
My purpose is warring

But those days are past
Never was official
Just a man with a business card
And his hand out

Waking up to a reality I can’t know
Finding life amid the wreckage
But pieces stick
They’re vestige

A woken dreamer
Last memories spill across the page

Turbulent heart

Your song seeps in, moving through my blood, wrapping itself around my heart.

This rhythm holds me to brighter smiles and upturned eyes, grace written in the moue of lips and tone made madness of love, though burning set fire to coils and snap, synapse lapse,

break bread in dreaming but no salt to be had, the wants of memory and a spent shell casing pinging against concrete steps, finality in the cymbal crash, in the sodden thump and cascade, never more,

but the ravens merely hungry and doesn’t want discussion,

drape the sanity like gauze, easily ripped away when it’s purpose conflicts with the grey light of dawn and the question on your lips.

Cast me out but let me fly, though I perch outside your door or bake me in and I mistake the warmth for the sun, flick ash and sand and watch world’s turn but only this once

Say that you are mine and wake me, a dreamer trapped in the dreaming, last relevant elevator pitch meeting,

let passion claim madness, let hope claim strength, let peace weep pain or merely love me, as I love you