They're perfect in morality
And their sense of reality
And I can't take it.
I can't even fake it.
It's killing me inside.
For some reason I hide.
I can't fuckin do this.
They're so fuckin clueless.
They're watching Doctor Who.
I'm locked up in my room
Deep inside my head,
Lookin for a bed
So that I might rest...
[insert profound message about how parents are clueless and society is failing quickly and surely]
Love approaches just when you're about to turn around
Giving up or fall down
Love gives you an intense hope and glowing promises
Nods down with any compromises
Love offers you someone who is more charming than the tempting world
No matter how clever the magic twirled
Love cheers you up for no good reason
Caught yourself smiling when Lawson's aired on
Love steers you to whatsoever that is possible
Including destroying something impossible
Love walks off ruthlessly without any remorse
Forgot the way it magnetize you like an attractive force
Love broke off the agreement and vivid faith
Cruelly put an end to something you create
Love shows how life propose something greater than loving a person
Makes you clueless of what to do then things get worsen
Love now seems to gloom every side of you
Minimize your spirits into few
Love steers you to whatsoever that is possible
Including destroying something impossible
I'll never understand how it's so easy for you to let me go, while I'm trying my hardest just to hold on.
I don't get how you can say you love me, then turn around and chip away at my soul
I'm clueless as to how you can lie right through your teeth, telling me I'm your one and only when there's so many others I'm beneath.
I have no idea how you allow me to feel like hell after every time you say goodbye.
you're lucky I love you because if it wasn't for your unsteady heartbeat, I'd make my wishes come true. and all my best wishes are for me to die.
Words carried on ears in hearses
dead and deaf headless on the back of horses
carrying axes stalked by a lumbering mob armed with torches and pitchforks
hunting for sport. hiding among the herd different but not by much
reality and fiction blurring and becoming lucid leaving me clueless
It keeps coming down this way breaking over in intervals and phases
breaking like the waves of a tepid and unenthusiastic ocean droning
bloating and lurching then slinking and retreating,
bringing lost thoughts back to me caught in a fit
of Cognitive Dissonance
restless and oppressive
Spread and Sprawled out on the floor surrounded by animated bones
swirling through the night air and coalescing into skeletons
dancing through draculas dining hall
stalling my fall with wandering thoughts suspended in air by a fanciful imagination
fleeting as the floodgates open and it all comes back full circle again.....
I can't keep hiding behind my dreams like this anymore.. it's time to face the real world now.
isn't it beautiful
how every day,
a new life
is brought into this world?
so many wonderful
chances and oppurtunities to come
so many memories
they're yet to make.
isn't it tragic,
that the new life
only a couple minutes old
has no idea what they'll face
in the real world?
all the heartbreaks
all the tears
all the suffering,
which they're yet
and I suppose the question is
if I had the chance
to go back in time
and decide on my
would I choose to live?
I'm quite afraid,
that the answer is,
There were some things young Hildegard
Believed deep down in her heart,
And it affected how
She treated all her friends.
"If you're not a part of my parade,
You're just another useless part
That will get tossed out with all the
Other odds and ends.
She told Rolph Johnson
To go on home..
He simply did not suit her taste.
And little Mary Fennel
To have a life,
But Hildegard had one
She had no plans to waste.
"I'm not sorry," she told them all.
"Because it's you. It isn't me!
If I let you hang around,
Someone important may just see.
And I will not allow that.
Where I am you cannot go.
I'm twice as good as you are.
And I know you know I know!"
She told her Mom one late summer day
She preferred to do things her own way.
She did not need her parent's care.
She had no need to worry there.
"I'm smart. I'm strong.
I'm quick. I'm wise.
And I think I've
Outgrown you guys.
You just don't understand.
I'm a some one
You can never be!"
"Even my Teacher
Thinks I'm bright.
And I must admit.
My Teacher's right."
And she's usually
Sort of clueless, so
It's kind of good she
Seems to know."
Her friends, they vanished,
One by one.
They were in the way,
And they weren't much fun.
They did not understand
Was twice the girl
They could be.
Once, or twice,
T'was true, they heard:
"Supercilious is a silly word."
And Hildegard would turn away,
Without another word
She had so very
Much to do.
She'd planned her life.
T'was true, so true.
It was a life she would not be denied,
A future she'd not toss aside.
She'd be incisive and demure.
They'd never undervalue her.
And to this day,
She's made her case.
No arroganace upon her face.
She's a belle of substance, and rightly so,
Trapped in a very lonely place.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"I call everyone 'Darling' because I
can't remember their names."
~Zsa Zsa Gabor
We are curled up on that old maroon couch
It’s ratty and old but it’s always been our spot,
Even when we were small it was
We’ve been talking for hours but it feels like minutes
Your teaching me about your car and I give you advice
We are so happy like this.
Yet in the back of my mind I feel the time slipping away
But you look at the clock and you ask me to stay just a little longer
But my dad said to be home by nine.
I start to feel nervous and your hands gently shake
We have so much to say but we never have enough time
Our words run together just so we can feel closer for these last few minutes
My chest begins to feel tight with the words I don’t have the strength to say out loud
And in a spare moment of silence my words
I love you.
Yeah, I said it. I love you, it’s there.
You look at me clueless
Almost like you didn’t notice
Then I see your ears go red the way they do when your
And I know you heard me
Words hanging in the open I know you feel my fear
I remember months before when you said the same thing
But my fear controlled me and instead excuses broke free
I’m not ready.
I’m not right for you.
Why would you love me?
You pulled back
Then you hid from me
What might have seemed like a week to you
Were really years for me.
The next time I saw you she was clinging to your arm
I couldn’t believe it
I was shocked
But I hid my feelings and covered them up with a smile
Then everything was normal again
Except for her
Yeah I said it. I love you. It’s there.
I get it now. I understand
It’s insane and irrational
But I now stand where you stood.
I’m feeling what you felt.
How did this happen to calm
But there is this wedge that slides between us
You used to be by me constantly
Strength in our bond
But she walks in and flips her hair
I don’t stand a chance
And your place next to me stands unfilled
She makes me feel out of place
With her dirty looks and glares
I’m not your competition
Or at least so I thought
She’s young and she’s pretty
Sometimes she’s what I’m not
But I’ve been there when you’ve needed me
That’s not something that she’s got
Yeah I said it. I love you. Its there
I hate the fact I haven’t said
The words that I can’t bear
Remember just last week
When you whispered in my ear
You said I’m yours, just yours
I help you when others cant
You understand me when I don’t understand myself
But then I blushed and pulled away
Why did I?
But then you talked about her
And I couldn’t help but feel sad
For a moment I had you back
For a moment things were back to normal.
We still have our moments
Though they are few and far between
You gave me your jacket
We’ve gazed at stars at night
But I come back to reality
And we are sitting on the couch
The time still ticks away
Its time for me to leave
I have to say goodnight
I’d rather stay for hours, or until the suns first light
But we both get up, still shaking
And we quietly say good night
I leave the house I’m on my way
But I know I lost the fight
So, yeah. I said it.
But only in my head.
Ill always wish I said it out loud
Until I find my strength
I love you.
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful kandi kids freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will make them look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuitions skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the abundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding orgasmic adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grim extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple thoughts and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be, beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move. To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but damn.
The there are over the counter candies, oxycodone, oxycotin and codone. Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, cocaine and speed easily obtainable to kids. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so that the kids parents can feel like their actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on them because they cannot handle they way their children actually are. Some parents actually do want help their kids and feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn’t so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterdays conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom, groans of apathy and the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system us but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and detcation so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share sexual fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones knowing they are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, god fearing, devil worshiping, mantras and meditation. Psalms, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Kabala, scientology and wiccans
Amish and Mormons
All spate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents staling social media, recordings of our personal lives. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protester, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi received every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to deplete these countries of their natural resources like we’ve done our own? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the murder machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, playboy, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s panties. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who raped them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the condom that was just thrust deep into their loins.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to creative something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chino, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the Rainey days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burley firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMTs, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere one inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout to no one, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to a shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it, it’s like eating glass it does no good for any of us anyway. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. Gay, homo, faggot, queer, how about kind, funny, genuine human being? The right to be married and divorce should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovahs going door to door, Mormons from Burbanks. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is on the rise, blood diseases, sexual diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years or some cant remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some cant even sleep at night but they still carry one. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. The be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Un hindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, kill, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The heartless selfish people who make the thoughtless decision to have abortions because they lacked the self control to take the time to get protection and do not want to deal with their consequences, feeling no guilt throwing away what is the very make up of life and love they had created themselves! Although there are those who do so for they cannot support what they have created and give it a life they deserve, I can understand but I still weep but I empathize with such tragic forked road decisions.
Mystery men raping innocent home walkers and killing them or leaving them to live their lives in pain and shame. We can make our own trouble but we can also undo them. No one has a right o put hardships upon us and if so at least I will fight.
Who are the ones to look for when guidance and facts are needed? Look to the poor, the unfortunate poverty stricken open eyed weary ones. They’ll tell you how things look at from t he bottom of the hill. Ask the ravers and hipsters, college students they tell you how it is when climbing the hill. Joyous, miraculous realizations illuminating the visions of the mind. Growing fields of love and dreams. Weeding out the falsehoods with ease.
Ask the children, so innocent and naïve, giving a simple yet meaningful perspective. Same as the geriatric wise ones who time wears thin. Both have intrinsic values and wants.
Talk to the lustful lovers they can tell you how in one moment a tangent can be created in one foul swoop. Or the leathered whip weilding, dominant/submissive practitioners of pain. They’ll show you the exquisiteness of pain and bondage, domination and twisted, alternative pleasures. The nine to fivers commuting as if their lives depend on it…and it does! They’ll tell you how precious every minute of every day is. The drug dealers, the drunks have outlandish perspectives, yes but they have merit all their own.
The mentally unstable, chemically unbalanced children of the sun.
The soldiers, parents of struggle. Or go to the metaphysical; God, Ganesh, Vishnu, Shiva, Gahandi, the Dali Llama. Ancient prophecies shed light on your darkest days.
Travelers have been to many places, come across many persons, seen many things. Interview a man from Munich, see what he has to say.
Confront a delinquent or a deviant, they have voices too.
We all come together in this wild weird universe where everything is relative. Where everything happens for a reason but without a single motive. A place where explanations and ambiguity go hand in hand. To achieve balance, understanding, self awareness, self confidence and control of emotion and thought; endless unconditional love and the notion to stand up for ones self must be acquired. Equality and tranquility flowing effervescently across the cosmos. No separation or bigotry no thought of color, race or creed, color and background. With all our senses heightened to see all the truth in the world, to smell the sweet aroma of familiar places, to feel the cool wind on a warm day, to taste the sweet and sour flavors that make up a day. And to hear all the wondrous sounds around us music, laughter, crying, honesty, lies and to distinguish between them without having to look.
The ability to articulate all you’ve seen and heard. Everything you’ve tasted and smelled and touched. The emotions felt, the thoughts you’ve gone over and over time after time. The eradication of grief and suffering. Heartbreak, loss and demolishing surprise. All the memories and people you’ve met there. The places you’ve traveled to, the relationships built and destroyed. The lessons learned or forgotten or maybe the ones haven’t grasped just yet they are you! They are us! All the same yet different to create a mixture of assorted frequencies and combinations of destines and the trails that take us their! So rise my friends Rise! RISE!
how pathetic am I
for loving you
when you don't
even know my
She is Sunday service love letters written in the centrefold
of a hymn book,
a coffee stain smile hiding the words of my favourite pages
of poetry that sits every night next to my bed.
This is my doomsday notebook rolled into the edges of cut off jeans,
and you were my judgement day,
standing on the edge of a cliff pretending that my life didn't depend on it
in that second,
depend on me.
She is my Maundy Thursday:
give away everything I own like I can live with nothing,
live like I don't exist anymore,
leave without a trace like burning,
because that's how I am when I don't remember you now.
Sitting in my bedroom with the lights turned out
you moving next to me like dancing with the covers off,
she promised me Saturday nights and feather dreaming
and now all I can do is this.
She told me the next evening:
'so many of these boys are clueless, I really hope I am not'
I tell her 'I don't think you are
She says I'm down to earth.
I think she is too when her head isn't stuck above the clouds
there are things I would give to see what she sees
when she looks down.
I want to talk about gods with her.
I want to know if every medicated son of god complex really was
a head case
or simply someone trying to finally send us down something good,
like we pretend we would see it when it happens,
someone tell me how people
can paint the sky with their guts, and the broken dreams of strangers
and call it religion.
How can these gods hate any kind of love?
Tell me why you wanted to die the year before you were a teenager,
how you're still trying five years on like you can't face
the seven months before you become an adult,
I don't know if you are terrified of real life
or being a child,
or if you still sweat in the middle of the night at thoughts
of an incarcerated man's hands touching your innocent body
like it was ever supposed to know what to do with itself.
Your body a haunted house, breaking from the cracks
you left in yourself.
You couldn't leave your own ghosts out.
Is this why 'god' lets you be so afraid of living in your own skin?
that you will dice yourself into pieces
praying for bad fate for once, tonight,
you're out of luck this time hunni,
I'm sorry I don't know what to say to you nowadays,
I just don't want you to be all my fault.
I'm sorry that I can't talk to you like I used to, like I didn't know
you were a time bomb
but I can't pretend you didn't light your own fuse,
because all you feel is leaking out the lines you left in your own skin,
I find it hard to believe you will ever actually detonate,
but I am more than over prepared for any hint of explosion:
buried my head in a glass case,
pretend that whiskey could ever take away the pain
like you were barrel aged,
so go ahead,
knock yourself out,
I can pretend I didn't feel anything like you did all those years.
You sit, breathing in the last shreds of sunset like the sun reclining could make you any more alive I tell you
just stop trying.
You are a painting.
3 years on,
no idea of your own beauty.
Your glazed surface
isn't cracked, yet.
You are a work of art waiting to be fully formed.
Paints hand-made, every brush stroke a sacrifice,
you're more than this oil,
not an acrylic, he can't paint out your mistakes.
Tell me how does it feel to be the pigment in your lips, does it feel like home?
Can you see me?
How does it feel to hang all those years,
do you forget every face?
Can you hear what I'm trying to tell you
If you see her, can you tell her:
I only wish I could have captured her on film
before she left