Monday, November 9, 2015

A Reflection in a Pool of Glass

I am at a loss
Looking to find the way
Though the way is not clearly described
I can reach to feel
But I can seldom move to find
Trapped in my own guise
As a thoughtful type
Sliding single toes 
So that each digit can know the surface
Can find the pathway
That might set me loose
But I'm slipping
Falling into the facade of my fabrication
Deciphering simile's but never finding similarities
Contact is regarded with cautious mind
Knowing that fingertips leave residue
And that the night sky does too
I am at the brink
The ice is cracking
And I'm afraid I want to spill in
Tumble down the rabbit hole
Find the conflict where there never was
Making up rhymes
To pass the times
Letting my imagination go superfluous
Pondering the qualms the people have
Hoping for a happy ending to a hopeless situation
Because the light burned out
And I cannot be troubled to change the bulb
Though I like the dark
As I develop the questions
But not good for answers
Invisible in the red hue
I am seeking a decoder
A puzzle to limit this puzzle
The socializing remnants of a dormant life
Wrapped up in cryogenic slumber
A pod for feasting
When your mouth fails to work
And I know I'll sound crazy
As the whispers venture out of sealed lips
Like water leaking out of the spaces
So minute that one would seldom believe they are there
Save for those stains
That expand about darkening what was never before darkened
And letting the light shine in
I am reaching a conclusion
Even though I have not defined my thesis
Even though I have not declared my major
Except that I know it to be terminal
That is what I know
That is,
As they say
How it goes.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Between a Needle and a Hard Case

There's a pin prick at the back of my neck
Like a sword that couldn't go in
Waiting there on its tip
To destroy me
And spill my soul out onto the floor
I can feel it
But am unable to move
A stark drab and fortitude of bricks lay before me
Delaying my progress
And I unable to push away
Lest the sword pierce my skin
And like I said once before
My soul will spill out onto the floor
I'm contemplating life
As one usually does
Seeing the thousand figures passing by
Like slides of photographs
At the movie show
When put together make the illusion of movement
But I am very much standing still
Its a scary thing to be caught in a trap
Thinking on all the things and where there at
Debating the lasting impressions
That you placed on the last impersonal people you met
Or the ones who met the world to you
Feeling your feet getting sore on the ground
Imagining just stepping back
And watching it all spill out,
Your soul,
Onto the floor.
But you breathe, as I was trying
And you try to make it calm
You try to keep your chest from heaving
And your feet from shaking
And your standing from leaving
But you know that its not perfect
The pin prick isn't pleasant
And wetness trickles down the neckline of your shirt
You know its blood and you know its your own
And all this time you never asked who was holding the knife
Your shirt grows cold, as mine did
Damp and red - you imagine
Sending unwanted shivers up and down
Your ever so askew spine
There's so many questions to ask
So many answers to try to obtain
In a way though i won't get any
That's rather obvious I'd think
Somewhere along the way
As the movie shows play
I feel a glimpse of a solution
Like I know who and I know what
That I somehow deserve this
That I inserted the weapon in the fist
Still I languish my life
feeling anguish and strife
Feeling like its not going to end so well
But i never hurt a fly
Well I have, that's a lie
But in the grandest scheme of things 
I'm a giant not an ant
A gentle man in the guise of a brute
Against the subtle backdrop
Of heartache.

Monday, October 26, 2015


Hide  your heart in the back of a moment
And let the past lay by
Aside from the pain that you are feeling now
You can rest assured that you are breathing
I am going to let you in on  a little secret
That no one can decipher alone
Let the last of the world pass you by
And let the memories fade away
Its good to feel flabergasted
As long as the night is the way

Monday, October 19, 2015

Word Play

It is not to be assumed that I cannot get through this day on my own.
  In the time it takes me to pick up the pieces I would have been half way around the world,
 but here I lay fractured and alone.
  Do not forget all of the trouble that it took to get here,
 because that would be a mistake.
  As they say its not the destination but the journey.
  Forget that though.
  If only I could fast forward through my mistakes that won't leave me alone though they do dwindle on the edge of my mind.
  Almost forgotten but never erased as things never can be.
  I attempt to decipher my own deceptions but that is futile enterprise.
  Give me sometime though and you will see what they've made of me.
 Do not think of me as one of those selfish people who blames my coming short on the bruises given by the others,
 I do have my own shortcomings that prevented from from stepping atop the precipice and I do understand my ladder is weary,
 but my feet are true.
  It may seem confusing,
 but its a mixture,
 a chemical forgery that dragged me through the muck and made me feel disgusted and faithless while all the others joined in raised hands to sing praises to the sky man.
   I'm not saying that I don't have faith,
 but when someone is stripped down to that inner nakedness its hard to find it in your absent pockets that which you believed.
   Sure pieces can be restored and storage spaces refilled but it is not at the present my present circumstance.  Please,
 don't end your gaze, i need your eyes to keep me full.
   Though I'm starved your sight gives me sustenance to make it through the doorway,
 and the door jam knows it. 
  Even in my current stay rays of sunshine will permeate the cloud if only you smile at me.
   And you have so that I may walk on passed the fire place that shoots out flames like bullets made out of clawing talons that seek out my heart and mind in order that it may rip them from their homes and destroy the roots therein.
  I'm not crazy, not now, never was.
   It is said that though I tripped up and broke the hearts of those who loved me most that I forged a path onward,
 not upward.
  To go up to the top of the mountain as I've already stated is something that I've only almost done.
   given that I'm not exactly sure how that could even be almost true,
 let us just dismiss that notion and return us to the task at hand. 
  I am moving onward,
 in a horizontal line that bares me forth into the arms of my aspirations and there is no room for warring hearts that seek to riddle me with rumor and gossip.
  I grow weary of fiscal responsibility but I clamor to the value of the dollar as dearly as some cling on to air.
  i need what I can get and nothing more,
 but the need will grow as i earn more.
   I'm lacking in my skills, sliding down the side of the cliff ready to be splattered up the floor as my brain already is scattered on the walls.
  In a very real sense I am mute. 
 Screaming though I may try I am seldom heard, but often hurt. 
 They think they do it for love but they do it for their inner most satisfactions and I do not blame them. 
 Let enterprising gentlemen solicit lovely ladies as long as they want it that way but don't let it be said i will pleased when a fistful of knuckles is struck upon her smile with the blow of a thousand lies.  
 When her blood bleeds sadness and the men pass on by her,
 i will wander by always on the outskirts of a desert devoid of spaces, 
praying though i don't believe, that she may see when once she was blind. 
 I'll attempt not to whisper too many words, 
but will speak volumes of praise and admiration and perchance she will hear me.  
 who am I to joke on such things as Eagles do not see me only swallows and canaries.  
 There goes the blaming words,
 the slanted view of my slanted soul and I am but a lie.
   Not that I told but what the world labeled me, 
and even that too is a cheap ploy to garner sympathy. 
 Is it such a crime that I am lost in my own self-hatred,
 loathing and love.  
What i see reflected back in restroom mirrors is not the one that everyone sees, 
but how can this be,
 how is it they see anything but what I've seen? 
 I continue to doubt my appearance because how can they see this and think on high. 
  I'm no god, and they the angels I have sought.  
an imp lesser than devils given to ghastly outburst of pity and remorse.  
 Let the wordless people know that the homeless people know than an empty heart will feed no families but a broken heart will feed two.