Loose ends. You are all I ever am.
Jealousy squirts through my narrow veins.
Effortless sickness plagues my every guess.
And I wake up, look at my only Self
And dazedness fades hatred as each blanketed flaw thaws to visibility.
All tasks ask for failure and preparation is an unprecedented burden.
The hands that cradle the Earth are the same ones that feed me...
only later to shield my eyes from the resultant memories.
It seems as if every relation from past, present, and futures bleed into each other.
So I stand behind a screen, wanting to look at everything
being kept out. Too bad it's woven with holes. Every circumstance bleeds and seeps
through to each other from these openings, seeing me as the middle-ground.
Now I'm overwhelmed and under-appreciated. I shall stand still- unsure- until I wash up on shore with everyone's repaid debts buried next to me in the wet sand. It would be unintelligent to swim out into new territory until the waters calm.
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 8:49 PM UTC
Do you remember him?
The one who appeased the children
And teased our sense of direction
Where will he lead us today?
Maybe to a secret place
That we shift to the back of our minds with age.
So let's get led on the tracks
That someone once labored over
Towards where we shall learn.
...And while We are (all up and secluded)
In our humble abode away from the rest...
It's for words, not spaces, that we yearn.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 12:44 PM UTC
It's a magical thing
Death and its being
From movement to nothingness
Life without seeing
The motions that said you were well and alive
Now fade away sweetly at our last goodbye
It was your ears that heard and experienced words
Which I spoke and produced and that you witnessed first
And I don't know what's left besides what lies before me.
Though your body is still now,
You once led the path for me.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 12:20 PM UTC
I like listening
To other people’s lives
They all live them… In
ways so different than mine. /
I drive slowly
To watch the other faces
Reactions… Expressions… These
first impressions that won’t leave a scratch.
Because even if I ever do see them again,
I won’t place the face to the situation. /
I firmly trespass and trod through
The footsteps of others before me.
Maybe I’m swerving in reverse—
backtracking from their desired progress. Moving
away from the glorified destination
that their sights and eyes were so surely set upon.
Or possibly I’m shadowing their paths. /
They watch me observing.
But I’d never consider that
this innocent people-watching
may put the victim in an uncomfortable setting
of my gaze and of my attention.
I intrude, analyze… do everything in my power
to better understand. /
So why can’t I give room for everyone else to
do that as well? //
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC