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Jake B Rydell Mar 2020
The princess of notre dame
Walked ‘round the house all day
She traversed the premise
Took heed of each blemish
‘Til versed she was well in its grey.

The days seemed to drag
Like claws raking sand
Every day was three nights
And each night held new fights.

She dreamt of much more
Than this cohabitant corps
So at night when they grew tired
She toiled by the fire.

With hand and word
She would wait no longer
A girl to admire, a caged warmonger.

She rose up fast
And rose up strong
She claimed the world
Each and every throng.

She hated the past
It burned within her
She felt unclean
A natural-born sinner.

Then once she was Queen
She made sure they’d not forget her
She reaped what they sewed
And made them rue the day they met her.
Jake B Rydell Mar 2020
I’m not feeling well
The past few days have been hell
But I must admit
The days have shortened a bit.
And before I know it
I’ve parted the stormy seas like
Moses with red and
I’m wine drunk at the party for the fifty-first time.

Step one.

Jake B Rydell Mar 2020
You were wine drunk at the party
Laughing about nothing, probably.
I was wine drunk at the party
Improbably laughing about anything.
There’s a storm in the bottle that was once filled with wine.
There’s a storm of laughter coming from what was once mine.
And it’s fine.
‘Cause I’m wine drunk at the party and I’m feeling alright.

Step one.
Jake B Rydell Mar 2020
The ones that you choose
Don’t determine you

In darkness and debt
In a desperate attempt
At finding true love
Or a friendship or two

But when push comes to shove
Or recklessness, too
The ones that you choose
May just abandon you

Just as the waves come
To and fro, blue
The ones that you love
May run away from you

While as long as you wait
For a message or swoon
The ones that you love
May come to hate you

And their hate could be new
Like the first breath of spring
A cold on your tongue
Cold that no ice could bring

Or their hate could be aged
Like a man in his rocker
Watching the time assuage
His dread for the knocker

But the ones that you choose
Give you no such time or determinacy
To try and find some truth
Or if it’s worth it to see

To fight and fight for days
So determinedly
Though noble for betrothal
Is a high wall to breach

For the ones that you choose
May not choose you, too

It seems an infinite wait
To be chosen by few
But to wait will not negate
That which would be up to you

And the wait could pave the way
To righteousness you walk through

The ones that you choose
Can be a mercantile few
To buy, and trade, and shift
All the wares that live in you

But the ones that choose you
Are of a different kind
The ones that choose you
Won’t fight for your mind
Won’t live for your heart
And won’t leave you behind

But the wait is the proof
A fire waiting in tune
For when the ones that you choose
Do also choose you.
Jake B Rydell Feb 2020
am I the poison
or the antidote?

I suppose that depends which one you are
(If it matters at all).

I don’t know if we work together perfectly or wage war violently, all I know is

I couldn’t exist without you.
One way or another.
Jake B Rydell Feb 2020
I’m in love with something
That doesn’t exist.
In a state of being between
Trysts and

The idea of happiness is
So far gone
Like a cloud in a summer sky
Or a bite
In an empty sea.

I don’t think my hope is lost
But it does elude me so

I don’t want to say my nonexistence is key
So I’ll say my non-word, nonexistency.

I’m in a state of nonexistency
Just like you.
Breathing, feeling, inconsistently
Existence isn’t fit for me.

But there’s subsistence in existence
Nonexistence is too drastic
Though I’m staring at the giving tree
Like headlights under traffic.

I thought you were a west wind
Screaming across an open plain.
But really you were the kite string
Twisting my neck, lifting my name.

Do I exist for them or me
And do I matter, too?
I’m in a state of nonexistency
But I’d exist for you.
Jake B Rydell Feb 2020
It’s become my mission
To forget and let go
My sanity hangs
On the side of the road
Thumbs in the air
The past at my back
Like a ghost of my own
As the wind does blow

How strongly it goes

Tipping the scales
Or my toes on the row
I see the rocks fall
So slow, so slow
How quickly would I go
When I go
If I go
I may soon know, balanced here; what a show.
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