so this is where all the dreaming takes me
to a cold, empty reality
with sleep still in my eyes
shivering, confused, I must’ve overslept
now it’s time to wake up
one last yawn, then face the lies
I’m barefoot and the streets are rough
paved with broken glass
but that’s okay
’cause the land is flowing
with milk and honey
bread and butter
if you just keep on going ...
I guess I will do something like homework.
Purposeful, delivered with instructions – to be completed.
But I cannot forget those shadows on the building nearby.
The way the sky does not know whether or not to be blue
So it rests on the roofs in order to
contemplate its decision.
I remind him to breathe – as well as I.
There, that helps.
Now we can follow the linear direction of the telephone wires.
Train tracks in the expanse. They allow for geometrical
sense to be made of it all.
Damn. They led me right to the clock!
How could they?
The time I did not need.
Why did my eye follow that line so faithfully?
Now those minutes that I lost and forgot all line up outside my door.
Waiting to be counted and named. But I cannot go to the door and let them in.
There just isn't enough room in this small apartment!
So I sit in my chair, perfectly consumed by book.
Yet I do hear them shuffling and muttering and shifting outside
making room in the hall as newcomers arrive.
Every once in a while, a particularly insistent one will ring that buzzer.
A delusion that his interval remains
very pressing and must not be missed.
I will post a check-in list up on the door
maybe they can schedule appointments.
Then they will see just how busy I am.
Unfortunately I cannot now
I can only wait for the evening when they give up for the day and clear out.
Because, if I opened that door even a crack to slide the paper through, one or two would manage to slip by. I might even be risking the lot of them piling up on the door until I just couldn't hold it up any more and they would all clamber and fall in, one on top of the other (none are very considerate or patient) and I just wouldn't be able to stop them! Can you imagine the mess they'd make in here?
I did just sweep the floors.
When I got someone new,
I would feel a sense of happiness...
Or anything really.
I still have that empty feeling...
But now it's growing vast;
Eating away at my chest.
No longer feeling numb,
But a dull ache
From head to toe
The emptiness has grown.
When I'm with someone else; I feel nothing.
...I need you.
The thunder screamed
And the stream flowed on silently
The rain thudded and flooded
And the water spilled
Out like the words
From my throat
Before when I stopped trying
To explain why I'm here
And all alone
And in the indents
Of where the stream lays
Now just a vein
In the floor of the crashing river
Is where the bones lie
From the body of the one
Who died trying to see through the universe.
I am stuck.
Not by choice
but rather simply by consequence.
too young and too old
too shy and too bold
too anxious and too calm
too busy and too bored
I'm not sure how I got here.
I'm not sure if I am here
or if I'm in-between one place
and the other
stuck in limbo.
The space between
this one metaphysical place
and the other
laughs at me.
I can’t be
because I don’t
So I am stuck
between one and the
the happy medium.
We, as poets
we fear the tangible
our fingers have lost the ability to
nights spent clutching our pens
unclenching our fists
fingertips away from the ones we cannot afford to lose.
From pressing the familiar lines of our
palms together while looking
up past the cracked ceiling
up past the cloud that Darius calls
We, as poets, do not believe in a
is so sweet
“My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains”
my mind as I sit in my overgrown grassy field.
I lie back, and look at the last rays of sunlight,
glimmer across the green leaves of the trees,
that creep up behind me in their sneaky ways.
My head is throbbing as silent tears slip down,
unseen by anyone other than the stars in dark,
my pale cheeks, and my messy, knotted hair.
I curl up in a ball on my side in the blackening night.
I hold my arms tightly around myself, desperately,
trying to keep from completely falling apart.
My choked sobs echo in the woods that reach,
comfortingly, out to me. I am tempted to go;
to climb into my favorite tree, settle in my place,
and just lie there forever-until unconsciousness
becomes my lonely eternity. Animals, insects,
and bugs are dead silent while I cry myself to sleep,
in the soft, caring grass, and my final wish,
before I go under, is that it hadn’t been him;
it hadn’t been me, and that everything would
be back to normal, and it was nothing but,
a sad, frightening, horrible, impossible dream.