this is what we all do.
whether quietly internalizing,
or yelling, screaming, criticizing.
this is what we all do, even you.
the stream of things of little sense.
the thing we label consciousness.
the soup we stir of long psychosis,
boiled down to one prognosis.
end itself of all of self.
the race we run as someone else.
that other thing that wasn’t you.
that person that you hardly knew.
but it could have been.
and it will be.
so mourn the now that echoes empty.
and know that soon enough it can’t be.
lost to living years you can’t see.
I wonder why you smile sometimes.
Surrounded by what shouldn’t be.
Not all that comes of fate unraveled,
belongs upon the midden heap.
Lovely bits of life leftover,
left to love when love is bolder.
Knowing better comes with older,
even though it knows no better.
feeling is not knowing ever.
stolid through the nasty weather.
waves that crash against together,
(insert hyperbole ‘forever’)
leave again, no, not that never.
I would not survive the clever.
I could not make the excuse,
of hurt that ties a gentle noose.
of necks that nuzzle near the nothing,
somehow finding sometimes something.
curling into lovely loving.
feel the sudden warmth against me.
curse the day that says it can’t be.
in the meantime I will sleep.
to my counsel I will keep.
for all but one.
these words are cheap.
one day, this, you may delete.
but just this.
right here is okay to start.
if it doesn’t line up.
what a surprise to see you dear,
still, so far, yet somehow near.
what a surprise to feel alive,
to know that something strong survived.
fancy that, the flights of fancy,
take me to the you I can’t see,
fly me to a place that can’t be,
wanting full but ever empty.
ever empty, always dreaming.
holding on to precious feeling,
holding on to precious you.
what this is, is nothing new,
I’d just like
to see it through
we all wish for second chances.
often tied to failed romances.
a wish for change and sudden shift,
some of us just want a bit,
just one decision.
a teeny tiny self revision,
math that solely sells addition,
change that comes with one condition.
perhaps, this life can flex enough,
to allow this dream of us.
come on love. stop it. just stop.
let’s quit asking for jesus,
even he wouldn’t believe us.
how much have you suffered?
do you think he would bother?
if weighed against all of the awful you offered.
but let’s not pretend the fiction gives better,
I also enjoy all the maybe turned never,
The devil is laughing so soon in my ear.
Google the phrase if nothing is clear,
guess if you can, who you are now my dear,
a memory of something powerfully someone.
the you. you. try. to minimize,
shallow when you close your eyes,
the shadow left.
no innocence a fire met.
nothing, nothing, nothing yet.
no love that levels logic loudly,
no someone giving something soundly,
for love called intuition.
for someone something, listen.
no nature there,
I couldn’t hear it.
no aching you.
I couldn’t bear it.
It’s a common thing, those facebook posts.
I won’t capitalize.
You know the ones that I mean.
The pictures of generic things,
that tell the glowing world you’re crazy,
born of defect, but never lazy.
Share what’s shared and shared and shared,
you must see distinctive there.
you may have a different view.
of these things I’m telling you.
not feeling. or needing.
just dreading the tearing and pain of awareness.
of knowing the awkward ignoring emotion,
I see you have loved ones, so how could you know this?
I’m screaming in letters to make myself clear.
how could you love like you do without fear?
You can fall in love with sounds.
A voice for instance.
A certain pitch.
average comfort left unmeasured.
I can still hear yours.
Surprising bass from fragile beauty.
Laughter heard from anything.
A heavy rattle ringing softly.
Say it more to reassure me.
Look at me and say you love me.
Breathe me in from narrow folds,
feel the animal unfold.
realize everything was false.
..and perhaps she was just a poor substitute, for you.
It is not better to know what could be,
versus the nothing that currently is.
Circle carved in the box before me,
Finding that all of the pieces fit.
Cleverly edit the sorrow from solace,
Edges of error soon sanded away.
Smoothing the other, the other that bruises,
Shoving the spherical soul in place.
Shoveling while shoving the dirt that accumulates,
Tossing and pushing the harder self heavyweight,
Hoping the better you pushes through anyway,
Pausing a minute…. to just take a break…
To catch a breath, that’s it.
…..but even the passive becomes the aggressive if longing is love,
and love is expected.
But these are just feelings devoid of the meaning,
missing the actions that gauge satisfaction.
knowing full well the broken will know this,
selective of love,
like those who are loveless,
pretending we don’t spite our noses for faces,
fixating on impossible chases,
leaving behind the love that could love us,
ignoring the better self always above us,
perpetually drowning affection aplenty,
finding another framed platitude empty,
the truth is a gamble that hedges your bets.
acting like there’s something significant left.
within cynicism create observation,
from little recorded to full out sensation,
enough to choke and kill the cynic.
oh god…there you are, I did it.
I love you, you love me,
but why can’t I breathe?
I find the air thinner,
between wanting and need,
I find myself thinner between wanting and you,
not surprised that I failed to learn this anew,
reassured that I may never know growth through lesson,
holding the passive without the aggression.
but what if intensity wasn’t aggressive…..
how does one tell stars at night,
that one appreciates the light.
the joy that one has ever been,
shining out from deep within.
the constant stream set sparkling,
to witness bearing all of it.
those observations leading to,
the comfort that is seeing you.
banish burdens balanced badly.
simply smiling softly seen.
endearing quirks presented gladly.
soul presented sans machine.
let these words breathe everything,
let the air itself be true,
moments worth remembering,
all of them spent loving you.
I would forget you if I could.
Even though I love you.
I would be free from things that can’t be,
the only I refuse to see.
Lasting lifetimes left alone,
bonds that form and never know
the end that never knew itself
that stranger, always someone else
that love, that love,
those soft bits left inside of me
the years that mock this tenderness,
this mind aware of common sense,
this heart that hates the metaphor
eyes not blind refuse to bind,
the awful empty thing inside.
the future that will always wish,
whatever else, your happiness
a light that ever shines the way
from now until the end of days.