If you turned the lights off
Let night saturate atmosphere as embers of
A once roaring fire now smolder beneath
A blanket of ash glowing just so softly,
It might look like a bustling city,
From a few miles away,
Grasping at silhouettes of oaken statues
Reaching for a familiar hand
The space between main street and this palpating heart
Has grown so distant
I tell my heart to slow down
Driving back home to where lights
Shine a different context,
Not to get excited
A memory once sung has buried itself
Once providing strength
Now wormholes long and hollow
Leave me fragile and petty
Not to get excited,
The lake has evaporated the fire
So going 55 seems more a punishment than celebration,
Not going to the infant incandescence
The pyre waits as debt and birthdays fill empty space
What burns better than dead devotion?
Eyes lock to the sky as we get closer
Pretending for a little while longer
That the memory of being alive is tangible
And my heart beats fast
And the city climbs atop the statues
Glowing just so softly
And something's waiting for me
In my life, people see me and hear me but never understand me.
For my mind is like the tide,
One moment i may be a...
a force of rage,
roaring with contentious determination to
override what has ben brought before me.
invincible with nothing to hide.
I am rushing,
hurling toward my goals.
Suddenly out of the blue water, I unintentionally encounter my own self doubt. In that instant i am over come by unnerving shaking and stand in shock. In that in that moment my persistence changes into unnatural scattering....
Until it fades into into
nothing at all.
a void of
panic! I force myself to speak, i must to force my thoughts back
i scream in my head.
but it is gone before it has the chance to utter a whisper.
What is left for the world to hear is a yelp.
" Excuse me? What did you just say" they ask.
Being with you was like trying to keep water in cupped hands.
No matter how tightly I held, you still seeped through the cracks.
All I wanted was merely a sip,
A tiny taste of the love you had to offer.
I had been thirsty without knowing I needed a drink until you teased me with your cool touch.
But before I could bring my hands to my lips,
The last drop hit the floor.
You were gone.
Leaving me nothing to soothe my chapped lips and burnt heart.
But here's a secret I learned shortly after you left.
I wasn't in a desert and you weren't an oasis.
All I had to do was grab a glass and turn on the tap.
I found a way to quench my thirst from another source,
And from that day I never looked back.
What is it about water
so calming and meditative?
Spent most of my life looking at it
bringing on muse and contemplation
Watching the flow lines
of surfers at wave play or
the ancient river red gums
bowing to the muddy Murrumbidgee
in reverent silence
And now watching
the flowing gutters
and umbrella parade
over a beer
in a Newtown bar
Water makes me Wonder
in a peaceful way
of the beauty in the world
like the dancing air-borne plastic bag
in American Beauty
In her heart just beneath her skin lays a tin pitcher.
The spout along with it's sides covered with frost from the coldest of water.
Parched lips long for a drink.
But without cup or glass.
I implore that I have swallowed fear of the utmost; Diving in head first.
A slow sip that eases the insecurity of rejection.
Another sip that interjects that you could be everything that I need.
One more to ensure that I would gladly drown to be loved by you
when i feel your gaze rest upon me
a weight is lifted from my heart
and another is placed upon my throat.
for when you (who is perfect)
and i (who is damned)
join eyes like the mixing of mud and
you steal my words and tear out my voice
imprison me within your sight
and i comply.
for it is you (who is perfect)
and i (who is damned)
It's 10:00 at night and it's been at least a half hour since you've eaten something. You make your way to the kitchen, empty bowl in hand. You place the bowl with the dirty dishes and the world slows down as you turn to see the small container with your name on it...
I hate it.
You grab a glass of juice and stare at the container down. As if the black that so neatly stamps your name could stare back. You open the kid proof cap and pour out half its contents into your dominant hand.
Just to feel the weight of death in you dominant hand. "Take 2 twice daily." They said.
The half orange, half yellow capsules still in my palm. Feeling the plastic-like coating I feel like I could crush in 2 seconds flat.
This, is when the protagonist eats as many pills as her body will allow, when she gives in, when she dies. This movie is almost over...
Nobody else is awake, it's just you and your handful of pills.
This movie goes on, the protagonist will live.
You-- are not built on a mountain of clichés and stereotypical archetypes.
And still alive!
You pour the pills back into the container, with 4 still left in you hand. You take 2 but you still feel like it's stuck in your throat, so you eat something small to force it down. Even though these pills are supposed to be take on an empty stomach...
You get a glass of water, and set that aside with the 2 remaining pills for tomorrow morning.
Now go to sleep, make sure this protagonist lives to take the Hollywood medication tomorrow.
This is how I like
my bruised skin
And how I like my sin
across heavy flesh
ripe and warm
with the waters of
Sometimes I wonder if hell
is just a
from the disorderly mind
of someone with issues