For a month a part of me was missing.
At least I thought.
So when I found it again, I was overjoyed.
Life made sense again because a void was filled.
But everything that glitters isn't gold.
You can't miss a part of you that was never there.
There's not a word for it either.
I tried to conquer the lexiconical gap.
So I watched as the petals grew crisp
And his words lost tenderness.
I relived the feelings of before that were the reason I left.
I questioned why I ever came back.
I watched myself and my movements.
Wondering why I did everything with him in mind.
Just wanting to be seen as imperfectly perfect,
Be any and everything.
To others I was everything and more,
To myself I tried to be more, to be that part he never could seem to find in me.
But yet again the lexiconical gap stopped.
I couldn't miss the part of me I never had
Especially because I never knew what it was.
Summer came and went.
Our summer was the sweetest.
I miss what I actually did have then.
Those constant conversations, that eagerness and anxiety we'd get when too many hours passed without seeing or hearing from each other.
We did have that.
Now summer comes again and I'm faced with the
everlasting gaps that are me waiting to hear from you.
That denial I have when I finally do.
A gap, the lexiconical gap that may never be filled.
Not even Lexi can fill it, not even Lexi can keep you.
flashbacks make me nervous
not daring to go further
knowing what is underneath the surface
lurking right around the corner
terrified of what my mind holds
about the secrets that I keep
about what thoughts could unfold
when my soul falls deeply into sleep
I am running out of distractions
finding the only way
to not feel insane
is to walk barefoot in the rain
circles of obsession
always coming back to you
so many nightmares in succession
what has my world come to?
we never were in love
how could we have been, really?
with no trust, respect or security
full of lust, but lacking peace or understanding
with all of everything that happened
just like a tornado
destroying everything in its path
and left with no where to go
I feel I should know better
most certainly by now
but something still keeps creeping up
those circles going around...
I wish I knew just what it was
that keeps on coming back
when there was nothing good you brought
your heart nothing but black
part of me will never be able to forget
not without lack of trying
you will always have that piece of me
that seems to be frozen in time
it is all I can do not to wake up screaming
have only ever been blinded by tears
telling myself nothing is what it seems
but still faced with the sheer fear of searing pain
I am careful with my movements
as to not rock the boat
as if I am still on water
as if I am still filled with hope
I would have never been able
to see things the way they are now
but at least I am finally stable
I always find a way somehow.
I – Rain Over the Dying Empire
The Weather Forecast looks grim today
This mess won’t clear up any time soon
So button up your jackets and turn up your collars
And mark up your calendars for a time of grey skies
There’s a storm on the way
We’ll all be blown away
The reign will never end
Until we’re washed clean off the map
But don’t you worry darling viewers
Just find yourselves a shelter, you’ll be fine
Don’t go scrambling in the smog to find hope: it’s always there
It pains me to be the bringer of bad news
Oh! Dearest Public I always pride myself in saying Tomorrow will be a brighter day
But oh! My friends I also promised I would never lie to you
We have serious weather warnings on the way
They will ravage your livelihoods but don’t let them take your souls
We stand strong against the tide of the oncoming gale, the hail and the thunder
If they weather away each tiny bit of all you hold dear
Raise your fist to the angry sky and scream for what is right
I promise, one day, sunshine will be legal again
I’ve tried to make you laugh and I’ve tried to make you cry
But it’s difficult when describing the movements of cold air across the land
If you ignore the hot stuff blowing out of parliament these days
It’s possible to force a smile: a fraction of happiness for hollow promises
They know nothing of how to save the world, they just want to escape
They’re harvesting the strong so they can find another home
Sure, they bejewel their guillotine as it hangs above your throat
Because they think that you’re impressionable but my advice is let them think so
Because Nature wants out of the pact she made when God abandoned us here
And they just want revenge because she’s stronger than they’ll ever be
The Mother they used to love, that they cast down, has come to kiss them with her poison passion
She won’t ask for their forgiveness as she beats them down, begging for hers
I’ll leave you with my darkest secret since you probably won’t see me again
As they surround me I want to let you know it’s been incredible
Striding through the desert carrying you upon my shoulders
And so I’ll thank you and blow a goodnight kiss to you
If there’s anyone they’ve left alive
They have finally come for me
II – The Broken Figurehead Speaks
We interrupt this broadcast with a message from the high command
Good evening noble people, please ignore what you have just heard
And keep on working for our greater good
For as we all know, it is better than theirs
Regrettably, my tolerance is thin for behaviour like that of our darling Weather Reporter
And my mercy is negligible for those who stand against us…
III – Martyrdom for Sunshine
As I stand above the ocean, with the army at my back, looking out at this sunset
It feels like the first time I have seen such beauty
Though waves gallop into the cliff below there is a malleable peace
It penetrates to the deepest corner of my heart
As they load their guns and prepare to fire, I think of the others who they have killed
And how privileged I am to have the sun as the last thing I see
If God will have me I’ll happily join his angels now
I look down the crippled rock face to the water, miles below
What have I got to lose?
I’m going to learn to fly…
the stars are made of rocks
the suns made of fire
there isnt enough water
nor drugs to make us higher
we're not going up or down
we're spinning not out of control
is sure to fold
kids play blame game,
parents take their time
whats it add up to?
still a dot on a line
so when you're making your movements
and judging others,
everything adds up to you
and we're all brothers
We watch the waves crest
and tumble, playing,
fragmenting quickly into jigsaw
puzzles, bubbles dancing on our
as the sun soaks
through our skin so deep
we're replaced by solid light,
and the corners of our mouths
soar up above the seagulls,
and the swells in the distance shimmer
like night-time's looking glass,
the movements of the stars,
and there's something about
the easy breath of the sea,
the energy and rhythm,
that makes us feel like running
unbound, and when we return
with tousled locks of sun-dried hair,
our skin sticky sweet, saturated
with layers of salt,
our socks made of sand grains
that tickle our toes,
pockets full of sea-stones
and oyster homes
and smooth glass, bottle green,
the color of daydreams and kelp,
we know, despite miles
of asphalt and cumulus clouds, despite
that our ocean never leaves.
in the backs of cabs that reek of stale vomit,
blue salt specks are dragged against their will to rest in the ridges of the floor mats.
fluorescent confused cubicles of light flashing by-
your mind fighting to make shapes out of the blur.
it’s january, this is everyone’s mood.
fingers folded into fists, stuffed into nylon pockets,
catching your breath and watching the scenery swirl past
like the entire horizon is made of melting wax.
you’re replaying day old conversations, analyzing cryptic eye movements
and body language of those people that strike you so suddenly.
those strangers that have pushed and shoved every defense and nestled themselves
into every fiber of your being. you sicken yourself with these sappy adolescent romantic bouts
but they’re the only thing keeping you alive.
you don’t know these people.
you don’t even know yourself.
the cab driver mumbles something over the radio and your attention is brought back to the present.
he’s on the phone-
you’re a little concerned-
your life does lie in the shivering hands of a stranger who boredly grasps and curves a wheel, after all.
but you play it cool, you turn to nihilism- it’s easier this way.
death is fine.
the cab driver is passing your house while you’re swatting at questions.
you uncomfortably raise your quiet voice for a few hesitant notes.
“Here is fine!”
you urge to the driver while a fumbling hand shakes down your pockets for a twenty.
there’s your house- standing just as you left it
through the white mystery patches on the back window.
chock full of memories and problems and decay and warmth.
everything seems to rest so calmly in the palms of the bittersweet.
tell the stranger to have a goodnight.
he returns the favor.
everyone needs to hear these things-
it’s january, after all.
I used to be a mover.
I ran, and danced, and climbed trees.
If I saw somethng I wanted, I reached for it, worked for it, or asked an adult to get it for me.
I would fidget and squirm at the dinner table and in Mass.
I did not question, I just did.
I used to say things.
I sang, rhymed and questioned with impunity.
I behaved as though everyone was hanging on my every word.
People were constantly telling me to be quiet. I made them listen.
My voice connected me to the world, it proved I was real.
I used to laugh more.
Giggled, chortled and chuckled with glee.
It was my first reaction to anything new and novel.
It bubbled out of me, tickling my throat as it filled the room.
I measured the worth of a day by how much I had laughed.
I used to get lost in things.
In the fields, in untying knots, in books, especially in books.
I deliberately took wrong turnings just to see what was there,
and hid under my bed with a book and a torch and spoke to no one.
I felt so disheartened when I found my way again.
I used to create.
I crafted, sketched and wrote for hours at a time.
It just poured from my fingertips. It was only completed when the smile came.
A bright, beaming smile, bursting out of me. I would burn with furious pride over 8 lines of mispelled rhymes about a purple monster.
I believed the only things you own, are the things you make.
Now I am uncertain.
Tentative, unsure, and above all; Silent.
Now I only move with a destination in mind.
I am economical and perfunctory with my movements.
I don't know how to use words anymore, the language has changed.
The pen feels uncomfortable in my hand, while I agonise over the exact right words.
Being lost frightens me, and seems like a waste of time.
Creating things (non-edible things) are just extra pieces of baggage you must carry around. Pointless and deflating, they chew their way into every part of your brain to fester and breed.
And people know when you've got poems gnawing your thoughts, and they will instantly distrust you.
Right now, as I near the end of this train of thought.
The Mover awakens within me. I smile and crave company.
I have a sudden yearning to once again take a wrong turn.
I will not sleep tonight.
I hope you're a fast learner
Cause I wont be around
to save you every time
you flash those big brown eyes
Im not like your last
I've never been good at.
making friends of lovers
I hope he's a fast learner too
I hope he pays attention
listens, pretends to care appropriately
I hope he adores you
for the latino princess you are
I hope his skin is dark enough
since that always
seemed to matter
for some reason
I hope he makes
a good dance partner,
likes your music
I hope he touches you
the way you like
finds your favorite spot
I hope he keeps you warm at night
even when he's not there
I hope you get wet
thinking of him too
I hope he reads your body,
your breathing, your movements
when you start to squirm
I hear its not a common skill
and you're pretty particular
in how you want things done
when making love
I hope he turns out to be
everything you think he is
I hope he doesn't break your heart
I may be angry at how things ended
but I'm not spiteful
I always wanted the best for you
Best wishes......my love
In the glass I glimpsed her eyes
they flitted over dappled cream,
but expectation became a cloud
and so fogged her face from me.
I glanced about my forgone haunt
of candy stripe and lino check,
a board on which I could predict
the movements of her interest.
You cannot taste frozen chocolate
or those rainbow splinters.
Yet she was snared in naive thought
and caught in coloured winter.
They make it all round back you know,
But actually they don’t.
They make a cracked kaleidoscope,
its sight is skewed and bitter.
Did I ever tell you that I saw you?
Did you ever hear my breath as you journeyed through the darkness with your pleasures?
Did you sense my body feeling the covers move in unisons with your misconducts?
Did I ever tell you what I saw?
My vision was possessed with the shadowed illustrations of your daytime dreaming
And the flashing lights revealing your silent movements while you lay to rest
I was in my own private screening of your devilish fantasies
Yet, I was pulled into the canvas, and subjected to a catatonic state, feeling everything, but limited to just witness.
I saw her in red, as she slid in between the streams of light
And she melted into the floor and sucked up onto the bed
I heard her pleasure, and I saw your lust
All I could do was lock myself away, trying to cover my inner eye.
Did I ever mention that I caught you?
Did you see my gaze read you like a children's book?
We're my cries enjoyable to you and your ever changing company?
Will you ever empathize?
Your words, so deep and loving in direct meaning
We're squashed I between your finger and thumb
Your eyes always looked through me, as if in search of another in my reflection
I was transparent, I was water.
I flowed continuously, swept away with love and distractions,
Yet, as water, so did I flow, never broken by your rocks and twigs place in my way
You pushed me over the waterfall, but I was not hurt,
With the tide I grew stronger, and I crash down upon your rock and sticks
And now, I am far out in the vast ocean,
where your rocks sink, and your twigs break down.
I take in the warmth and love of the sunshine, I sparkle incomparably under the bright moon
And I spread this, honestly, without need of a finger and thumb to hide.
I am real.