My greatest disappointment (in this moment), is feeling foolish
about what I believed and chose to swallow as truth: that I was extraordinary and enough. For him.
I mean, he was dynamite convincing; obliterated my doubts and healed me all at once; showed me love and then came "but" out of somewhere it always existed.
I hate this love **** -- this roller coaster movement that
scrambles my compartmentalized thoughts and accelerates my fear and loathing of something that is meant to be incredible and beautiful.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 11:59 AM UTC
Drunk and dangerous
Found and lost
Dropped off in the back of my
Scattered thoughts
Surface
Down under
Caught in between the space of
What to do about boy wonder
And all the fright
Distracting me from my deep slumber
This time of night
In the thick of life
And love
And alcohol
And Mary Jane
And the eleven year old
Prized possession he holds
Near and dear to his pounding heart
Everyone in me wants to run
Different directions
For the hills
Where I
Live aloud and alone
Believing more than anything
I’ll be fine on my own--
Sans the love of a man
That believes his heart I spelled and stole
Or not
Because he can’t help
But be who he is
Flirty and fiery with others that aren’t me
Seated in the dark
Drowning the voices of his persuasive bravado
I sip slow and swallow
Counting the minutes until--
Tomorrow
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
I wanna take it back
to ‘99
When my best friend was all that mattered
and the future we dreamt about
under the effect of minds altered
was tantamount to our freedom
to roam and ride ***** through the streets of silk city
When an unhampered day felt like
the beginning of time
and walks through east side park
evoked a natural high--
because I had no business holding hands
with the boy from the other side
of the tracks
Stacks
Of opportunity
Not yet known and unwasted
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 10:00 AM UTC
The raw me that dwells within the I Am that is Me is not of this world, yet exists in this realm just the same.
Dreams are for me temporary respites, a sojourn in relief from the dense material yet hallow Frames of this world; and to be in it, not fully understanding yet accepting, seems to be the biggest of undertakings.
What becomes of the soul that encounters mirrors along the way? Mirrors in the form of dense shapes filled with diverse spectrum's of light. The light in the me comes to know, that alone the light is not in this corporal world.
What happens when the light meets with fate and encounters beings in the shape of other life forms? Intertwined in this vast web of mystery of the unknowable yet deeply felt within? Seems Conspiratorial.
The truth remains, and even more so a reminder of the me that dwells within the I Am that is forever Me; ever connected, ever intertwined in the journey of life longing for itself. Longing to be asleep, for to sleep is to dream, to dream is to be free from the bonds of this body that seem like such a prison to the soul.
A light seeming so far from the home I truly know as real, where the me and the I Am are truly One and indeed free from the constructs of this separated world which contrast exists.
W.M. Smith III
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 10:14 AM UTC
I trace your silhouette in my sleep
While I dream
I capture lines that run deep
Into the shape that makes you
You
In my dream
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 9:48 AM UTC
If you stay still you will see -
a grand source of grief and despair,
the loss of love and time,
the ravage of age and its careful inspection and delicate repair.
The beauty is bottomless;
Like a murky core or stream of consciousness.
All that is within - Meta;
shaded with visible impressions and the unsounded ripple effects of dark and light, good and bad - moments in time;
Emotional shifts of our unknown aesthetic design.
©E.J. Wanjiru 2016
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
My thoughts are drowning in his words
Not
gasping for breath
Nor
searching for safety
But
willfully falling into the depth
of being adored and loved greatly
As the current pulls me further away
from all that I am
I wish not for this feeling to end
Not to come up for air
Instead
To just flow
and know that a net will appear
©E.J. Wanjiru 2016
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
To all my past lovers,
I'm sorry I couldn't stay
And I forgive you for letting me go
I don't think of you as much
Except for those nights I sleep alone
And wonder about the things
I didn't know then but now I know
Sentiments I didn't want to express
And love I wasn't ready to accept
As the acquirer of these moments in time
My words were harvested by you
And therefore owed to you
To all my lovers,
I'm sorry I couldn't stay
And I forgive you for letting me go
©E.J. Wanjiru 2016
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
He is the type of man that should be loved with eyes wide open
No rose-tinted glasses or throes of passion
No crooked circumstances or delayed reactions
Just the distance in between
And a clear vision of what cannot be seen
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC