it is dreary here on the port today

the cold is overwhelming, the winds cutting like a dagger through flesh.
while i cling to my coat, begging for any small reprieve,
i'm reminded of warmth from another, encountered by the ships.
it is always a wonder, when i am spoken to, as the time spent aloft is lonesome, and i've long since lost the charm of conversation.

nary one for speaking, therefore deft to hearken,
a weaved tale of pained loving anguish,
of a lover set avast on the seas,
without the faintest of thought,
of any but he, the crew, and the sea.

what a surprising thing to me, i'd admit,
as the rarity of the beauty before me,
laid plainly to see, was greater then any upon the sea,
or down within it's endless depths.

the smile there, amidst the dried lines of salted cheeks,
warmed us both through the wearying cold as we stood,
laughing at the thought of one's beauty, seen and beheld,
as opposed to the endless, mythic beauty of a sea, unseen.

These words don't come as they once did,
What once flowed like rivers,
Misery expounded onto page, ripped asunder from the mind,
And placed somewhere remote; far away.

Was I myself ever the poet, I wonder now,
Or was it simply those miserable thoughts,
Guiding the body to explain the mind away,
This is what concerns me most, now.

When before I could write, and write, and write,
About any small pain upon the weary heart,
An expression of these taut emotions, played by a coarse hand,
Not at all concerned with truth, or with what is best,
Simply expression, no matter how destructive, or deluded.

As I sit and write this now I am not fully convinced,
Even still these words are rooted in a pain,
The anxiety of the self, looking inwards,
Pondering if the space within is occupied, or vacant.

There is, a back and forth,
Between the burning desire of confession,
And the cold despair of anxiety,
That spins my mind in such dizzying circles,
Only solution being: inaction.

The strife that comes with such a choice is staunch,
Unwavering in it's indecisive nature,
Ironically enough, this feeling is reflected,
Like a mirror image, that much is quite certain.

Perhaps more frightening then this inaction itself,
With it's insidious grip on my thoughts and wishes,
Sending my worry into a fury so blinding,
The mind incapable of dwelling elsewhere,
Only solution being: longing.

Oh, the melancholy that comes from such a deep longing,
It's influence tugging not just at the heart, and the spirit,
But at the being, the pain of seeing so clearly your wants,
Unsure of how to truly take grasp of that which you love.

It is a wonders if this longing is just like that mirror,
One of the greatest wonders to cross this weary world,
Because in knowing such an intimate truth,
There then remains not a moment unfettered by anxiety.

There's no reason to try and sugarcoat my feelings,
You hurt me.

The weirdest part about it is you convinced yourself,
By just not saying anything, and keeping up a facade,
That somehow, just maybe,
It would hurt less then just ending things finite.

Instead, you kept up the dream, the idea in my mind,
With hints, here and there that maybe things were different,
Taking up space in my bed, my mind, and against my body,
Tell me truly, how could I know that your feelings were a mirage,
A mercy to my own, by your admission?

Looking back it, with how much it stings to think,
That when I awoke with your limbs,
Draped around my neck and waist,
I smiled, and nestled into your embrace,
Only to know just a while after,
That it was meaningless in intent.

In fact, what cut me so deeply,
Is your anger that I kept you there, after the fact,
Cornered you in my presence,
When the reality of it is I laid in my bed,
Believing you wanted to be there,
And the fear you'd leave at any moment.

Reflecting on it all, it's peculiar how you speak about me,
I never knew that things never clicked,
Because you held me in your arms and kissed me so deeply,
After we broke up, and we're sitting in your car,
Or when you tell me how you want to run away together,
Start anew, in a place so foreign to us.

With each moment of intimacy my hope soared,
Surely that kiss, surely that desire to leave it all behind with me,
I dreamed so desperately that the fall in responses to my calls,
Must surely be an issue of conflicting time,
But it was an issue of conflicting interest, in the end.

Maybe most of all, the most simplest of all,
When I say I love you, and you say it back,
And I tell you how much I'd love to keep you in my life,
Only for you to tell me, months after our split,
That there was nothing really there,
And that you could never love me.

That's what really hurt me.

How could you have been so foolish,
As to believe that love prevails?

How could something retain a victory,
When it exists only in your mind,
It daintily persists, so ever convincing,
That surely your fears must be an illusion.

Though, there they stay, before your very eyes,
The dismay that comes with the removal of the veil,
As the twisted husk of deceit grabs your face,
Pulling you close, your eyes glued open,
Force to glare into the visage,

Of utter despair.

Of course this is how it would go,
It always has, and why should the tale you've told so many times,
Change before your very eyes?

Entranced within the enveloping dark,
I'm stuck alone with intangible thoughts,
Those that dwell in the mind constantly,
Ruled by the tyranny of doubt, and anxiety,
They rattle my mind, bouncing to and fro,
Reminding me that I'm desperately alone,
And they'll be my only solace.

There's a true terror, in your greatest enemy,
Being that which guides your every motion,
It seems like just as much as the mind is on your side,
It's waiting for the perfect moment to remind you,
Just why you're so insignificant.

Every action that you think correct,
Reflected back as a horrible misstep,
Or an embarrassing display of stupidity,
Another failure so plainly in view,
How can one succeed under such a critic?

Walking through the store,
Surrounded by racks of other lived world's,
Given to be shared with someone else,
My hands brushing across jackets and shoes,
Feeling where someone tripped,
Or where a moth found it's way.

My thoughts meander to my own world,
The scuffs decorating my shoes,
The fraying strings of this jacket,
The torn pocket of these jeans,
All part of me here, and wondering,
Just how much you'd see of me in them.

I'm passing the time all the while,
My search idling between,
The articles of lives, and the ones moving around me,
Waiting for the certain one that led me here,
Leaving me to fend alone for just a moment,
A slight grin my only clue to run on.

Wandering back down, my mind was a flutter,
Before me, radiant and glowing,
The magnificence of your presence
Breathing a whole new meaning,
To a prismatic dress,
And a perfect black jacket,
Captured so brilliantly,
In my enamored mind.

Whimsy and flowery language,
That's what I'm guided too when I think of you,
The softest of phrases, the gentler of thoughts,
A beating heart floating on the rivers of life,
Yearning simply to beat in unison with that one,
That feels so distressed and distant,
But is never more then a thought away.

Alas is it so,
That the flowery world of my mind is only there,
While the realities of the world rest heavily,
Upon the shoulders of your weary mind,
Making the joy mutually adored,
Feel like a pleasure unbeknownst to reality,
Distorted in the storm of disarray.

But, nonetheless that adoration persists,
It's permeates peace of mind,
Like a respite in the eye of that storm,
A resistant rebellion against the worst,
And a optimistic direction toward the future.

Oh it won't ever be,
So daunting and exhausting, navigating this world,
For by your side is a crew everwilling,
Led by a restless captain, with a light heart,
Yearning to beat in time with the queen of the sea.

theres an unraveling feeling building in his gut,
he sits in a cell, trapped amongst towering machinery
guts churning at they run idly against the walls
clinging to the voice on the other end,
spelling out despair
the grinding of metal becomes almost deafening
desperately trying to drown out the words spoken
but they ring ever present
things would be forever changed

its not a wonder things should be so very this way
the twisting thoughts of demons hanging overhead
one fears that if they get to close they might strike
rather dangerous when they cling so tight
what can one do but stand to help
against another's constricting shackles

maybe the dream will be enveloped in the mass
splitting the seems and rupturing the chaos
the cell could erupt and the future could lay bare
but maybe ever still
this place will be where it stays

its a comforting notion, this feeling i feel with you,
when i look at you, the constant buzz ceases,
the uncertainty melts, and the worries quiet,
i'm able to put it all aside, just for you,
and would it be selfish to say,
that i do it so i can see that soft, loving smile?
maybe so, but nevertheless,
my drive to see your joy is limitless.

A cold and shackled figure,
Hardly a husk of what once would be,
In the mirror it reflects a creature,
No human would ever care to see.

So distant from all other life,
The isolation has become a defense,
From the twisted world of the living,
So filled with overwhelming strife.

Standing solemn, eyes cast to the dirt,
Shackles secured firmly to the rock,
The birds surround his prison to mock,
The exiled being, and his surrender to suffering.

Alas, with frantic flapping they depart,
A gentle hand presses to the imprisoned heart,
The chains turn to sand and drop him free,
Eyes gazing up to his savior to be.

With stars for eyes, and the cosmos for hair,
How did his troubles turn her to care,
As she came down from her heavenly realm,
To bless such a meager, humble life?

He rose to his feet and without thought, mirrored her,
His hand, to her heart,
"This heart is yours, and yours to keep,
Hold it ever close and find love, limitless and deep."

Floating in the darkness of an endless dread,
Convinced it can only lead to lying dead,
Lost in the pits of what it means to be living,
A despair that just keeps on giving.

But, amidst this, keep driving forward,
Something drawing me away from the end,
A shoulder more then willing to lend,
A light in the distance to strive toward.

dreary days to be,
mortified of being me,
trying just to see

when we met, i was at my most vulnerable, desperate for affection, and a burning desire to be loved.
i'll admit, i'm not like most men, i wear my feelings on my sleeve, and i'm not afraid to let them show.
you took my hands, and pulled me in close, and for once, the roaring chaos of my soul soothed into a gentle, imperfect song.
i let the barriers and chains of my heart loose, and showed you the man i am, flaws and all.
the joy of being able to be myself was a potent one, and i clung to you as you clung to me.
but then you left. as quickly as you came, you were gone once again, as much as you fit me, i simply did not fit you.

For such social creatures,
We spend hours selfishly isolated,
Willfully separated,
From the thousands around us,
All the unique thoughts, dreams, hopes,
Going unsaid out of fear,
Of dismissal, or of discomfort.

As I lay here, gazing at my  meandering colleagues,
I myself am guilty of the same thing,
Headphones deafening life around me,
Just like so many others, going from one task, to the next,
Willfully distant from existence around me.

To drift, to be so very at peace,
Not a worry to be seen,
Like the vast expanse of sheer nothing
What a comforting notion
Being so free of everything that binds one to a place,
Adrift amongst that very nothingness,
It's vast emptiness a catalyst for your genius.

The pale skin of a nosferatu
Dazzling sapphire eyes,
That glisten, but lie dry
Wholly unfettered by the delusions shattering about,
That scream what they've seen,
For the world to hear.

Melting into the sofa I wonder,
What could be so powerful,
That would capture all of my being,
Compressed and screaming into a condensed mass,
Encased in the bedrock of anxiety and depression.

i'm not all that great at opening up
with written words its not that
it's still closed, kept in the expression of art
but when it comes time to speak of the real feelings
i shiver and shudder at the thought of my sensitivity.

i'm not good at opening up
because telling someone you care makes you weak
its a strong thing to say, but an easy thing to exploit
and meaning it mean that you can be hurt
and i've never said something i didn't mean.

so i'm terrible at opening up
because this loving heart is powerful
and i'd hold you to me, listening and keeping you safe
i'd leave myself open, to make you feel comfortable
never seeing the knife sneaking to my heart

i'm awful at opening up
i'm selfish with this compassion
i'm unable to brave the pain
because if i wasn't
who's to help me when my heart is in pieces?

That morning, when I awoke, I had not a clue,
That the things you claimed you'd never do,
Were exactly what my day was leading too,
Though, as we shared that bed, my alarm was right on cue,
And as I got up, I noticed I smelled like you.

I told my best friend about that night,
That for once, holding someone was comforting, felt right,
Laying there, with you clinging to me so tight,
Was the first time intimacy didn't come with a shock of fright.

But, of course, the truth comes out,
Stunned, standing, the visage of a lout,
So lost in all that's come about.

That afternoon, when I got home, what was I to do?
So many thoughts, so many feelings to get through,
I turned on the shower, watching the dancing water spew,
And, just before the water touched me; deja vu,
I noticed that I smelled just like you.

This couldn't stand, and I scrub and washed till I felt alright,
Dirt, regret, and your scent wash away in the dim daylight
At last I didn't smell like that night,
And didn't reek of lack of foresight.

Now, I'm left with only an internal emotional bout,
Wondering if I can even shake this doubt,
To decide whether or not to keep you in, or out.

With each step I take,
I slip further into Earth,
A trench of regrets.

This place is my post,
My never ending routine,
A prison of thoughts.

Cresting waves of guilt,
An endless stream of questions,
A sea of troubles.

Towering mistrust,
Lost amidst my constant worries,
A forest of doubt.

No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
I may not have a mark on you, but I'm covered in you.
Our past has brought with it a dizzying myriad of hardships,
Some by my hand, some by yours,
The only difference is I've changed,
And you still lie.

No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
Why would I share something so meaningful,
When you keep so many secrets,
Omit my existence to others,
And lie to my face?

No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
Because the idea of looking at my body,
And having a permanent memory of our lives,
Is a sickeningly sweet lie I cannot face.

No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
It'd be fake, just like our relationship with one another,
A lie we should've gave up on sooner.

No. I don't want to get a tattoo with you.

i'm not going to be happy and fulfilled,
to make you feel better about what you did,
your twisted and malicious abuse of my feelings.

no i don't want to be your friend,
i don't want to pretend that it doesn't hurt,
that you looked me in the eyes,
and lied, over and over again.

it's absolutely ridiculous,
that you claim i'm the one that's ridiculous,
because i won't give you what you want,
i won't comfort your guilt,
for the abuse you put me through.

smoke dances before my eyes,
it's freedom, it's chaos taunting,
a reminder that i am far more constrained,
i take it into my lungs, with a succinct inhale,
desperate to be as smoke, chaotic and free.

it fills me, and i cough,
i cough, and i cough
and i retch.

it tears free from me, along with all it can bring along with it,
a punishment for imprisonment,
a revenge sweet, and a reminder,
that we will never be so chaotic and free