Deep rifts which, bottomless, we nevertheless must jump

Broken down epiphany
broke, sitting outside a locked car
Wondering how to break in
Keys sitting in the ignition
Waiting to be turned

Looking around
Hoping the Gang in blue
Passes me by
I swear it’s mine

But what goods swearing when you are brown
Not gonna matter
Sometimes invisible is the best you get

I remember
In my youth daring anything in the world to touch me
A promise of bloody retribution living in my heart

How naive I was
Or was it that without anything to lose that life was just less valuable
My life and theirs

Though I still hold no value for lives of those who wrong me
Now, I hold my life valuable
Forced to acknowledge that the path that was past
Is long gone
And any action has deep repercussions

Though I think about the last hurrah
And play a game
One I’ll likely never put my quarter into and roll the dice

What can we do
Shouting from the rooftops
Wondering if we’re heard

Wondering if it matters
Just a silent majority
Our voices hoarse from screaming

Spinneret

Give me a good time
A time of rhythm and rime
Past wrongs right
Past lives given fines
Traveling past the barrier of mind
One last trip round the sun
Then I’m gone
Just a spec of dust
Made from stars
Waiting for the wheel of wheels to slow down
Another lifetime
Another chance
Challenge nightmares to a dance
One filled with hope and broken feet
Pains just the memory of being whole
Give me a taste of that sweet beginning
That first rush when power is realized
That first crush when it fails
I miss that blind certainty of youth
Yearn for days perceived as good
The mythic past
The mythic future
One more twist
One more thread
Oh, give me a life well lived

Almost rhyming makes me sleepy

Fever from exhaustion and aches from reluctance
Stress responses to unbearable situations
Call me broken
Of the mind perhaps, the body certainly
But not the heart
And ain’t that some weird shit
To have things flipped table like that
But still that familiar song of close but not close enough plays on the radio
Turning that dial, looking for a stronger frequency
Rolling those dice hoping for a triple hard eight
To run the board and let it ride
Until dreams become reality
But reality is wicked
It does care what you want, only what bargain will you make
Because that’s how it is here
We sell our time, physical or mental
And what’s the price tag on a new life
Hard to buy when you are still making installments on the one you have
Just broke enough to know that you aren’t broke
Alive, paying bills, told to cut back on that overpriced coffee that tastes like freedom and for a few sips you get to forget that the rent is due and food is running low.
Buying everything cheap
Instead of well, because saving costs to much, can’t go to work if you aren’t wearing shoes
Pull yourself up by your bootstraps
That’s some non-newtonian physics
Smiling faces like they’ve done you a favor
Tired of this broken wheel
This simulation
Fucking programmers
Always introducing new bugs with each new sketch update
Fuck it
I gotta live here
What happens when it goes away
Futures uncertain but still
I can always depend on being wide awake when it’s time to sleep

Hunting for beginning

The problem with writing about inner turmoil is that as you deal with your emotional trauma that voice which drives you to write gets quieter and quieter
Sometimes depression yells pretty loudly, sometimes anxiety breaks through and gibbers all over the page. But that bleak dying cry from the abyss is silent. And this is better, I know it’s better. It’s just hard to reach that emotional depth. And I wonder if the wounds are really healed or if there’s just so much scar tissue that I can’t feel through it.
I feel like I cry about things which never would have touched me before. I don’t know if that’s progress or emotional honesty. I’m on a self guided journey. There are good and bad things to celebrate in that, but sometimes, you just want someone to tell you that you are doing the right thing. But who can? When you are adrift in the wilderness.
Even when you are with someone, you are alone. What else could you be, in the white noise silence. In the space of their lives and the distance between you