Pick axe in hand
The ground laid out before me

There is no
”X”

Just a solid exterior that is beginning to erode
Some where below is the prize

I pick among visible lines
The obvious
Start where it is already coming undone

Grinding the dust into my hands
The smooth grain worn into a natural grip

A focused vision comes into view
Marking the ground with my sight

Lifting and straining against the weight of my tools
I have not yet begun
I feel myself dispersing into the ground below me

Patch verified axe rising like the new sun
Then quickly drawn down upon the soil

Solid even in the fissures
The vibration resonating
Pushing back at me

Swing Man! Swing!
Bring on the ultra violence

soon

Standing on a barren plane
Soft winds lapping at the gently rising dust
As small shards find new places to rest

Progress is slow & shallow

Stopping regularly
To clean and prime the site

This ritual promoting
Images and feelings of being prostrated

Before some long forgotten deity

Many hours gone progress is measured
I have not gotten far

This will be weeks
Not days or hours

I stop to consider the plan
Too late ultimately
I started here

No rhyme or reason why

Just here
This is the scar upon my psyche
That will give way

I say.

oh how dreams don't come true
you sighed deeply into the night

looking at me like some sort of resolution had arrived
i was not there to wash away the life you had known
i chose to make life better for each of us

that was not going to happen

my life plan was to live
your life plan was already in shambles

there was no blue print
no scale model
just ideals

long dreamt ideals of who i should have been for you
you said i lied to you
that you were disillusioned with the idea of who i was

am i Copperfield?
there were no smoke or mirrors
only your addiction and vanity

Houdini?
i never tried to escape
into the countless bottles that accumulated

Blackstone?
i only tried to put you back together
every day after you tried to tear yourself and us apart

the magic was all around us and some days you even saw it
most nights you cut right through it

if i was your illusion
then you became the analogy

you might be my 1 great love
but you will never be a mistake

nothing hurt more than the words in your eyes

you said you became poison
was i the catalyst to that transformation

there is talk of mole hills now

then you spoke of our dreams

i even made the purchase
you finally broke me

there you were
moving brightly down civilized lane
basking in the glow of someones technicolor dream
was it even yours?

you finally sold it to me and here i sit
thinking of all those dreams

i
never
dreamt

missing things only you could have fed me


i have a mirror now
and i find myself looking

you tried to fill the ever growing void deep in me

i failed you

because the only things that kept me going
were the things you hated most

i feel the void and i feed the void
but it is sated because it is me
not something coerced into belief
neither is it a curse to which i was bequeathed

the void was here before you
the void will live beyond me
i will live before it takes me
  
yet as i go about those days
etched on the back of hand
will be the broken vision
of that life plan

i- insecurity is an odd coat to wear.

it- we all wear some type of it...

i- i raise an eyebrow to that statement and take pause at its implications.
if only to acknowledge that the time and place for that is alone in the closet at 430 am.

i loved

no really i truly did







Once.

in that place there was static

static that made me indiscernible from the shadows.



you are no more
we are long past

i wish there was a grave
i would bring you to it

no one would lie in it

i wouldn’t have that grave mired

with

what

we

were/are

it would remain pristine unlike us.





some day it would be filled

then i would let you see me cry

and you would still have no clue.

Each day I have a reason to celebrate.
Each moment that I sit
basking in the cacophony of my minds
constant obsession is a reason to be happy.
I didn’t know I could think or feel anymore.

Not till the day you

Well not till that night.

I told you simply before
that I would respect you.
If only because you have to give
to receive I know that.

Slowly I learned
it is only what you expected
and never really cared for.

I didn’t seem to be cared for.

Not how I wanted
usually not like I ever really needed.

The old song says
I fought the law and the law won.
I fought myself and days
days get darker all the time.  

Not darker like it was
there is a new dawn in my life
there will be more sunshine,
the clouds seem to have past
but the void between me and the sky is so ominous.

It’s amazing what you feel
when you are allowing yourself to.
I must have been insane
to think of pleasing only one person
mostly because that person wasn’t me.

No fingers pointing
I know you gave it a go.

You made all the marching orders
that seemed right at the time.

Blame cannot be assigned
unless you count
change
the one true,
inevitable force in the world.

Change is going to mean many things in is this wonderful little play.  

You won’t change for anyone

and I am tired

Tired of changing for you.

Dutifully watching willows sway
Birds are lounging just beneath the overhang
Rain is gently pouring down the window pane
I sit hear raggedly alternating my vision
From you to it
It to you.

I don't know if you are conscious
I really hope you can hear me.
I stopped using words days ago
I plead to you from my soul.

Countless days and fruitless nights
I spent in chairs, couches and cold floors.
Fluorescent lights beaming down
Numbing every emotion as time slowly passes.

I look and wait
speak to others
hoping you will just chime in
Jealous that my attention was diverted.

No sound just shallow movements of your chest.
Time here is mounting deep within me
patience giving way to rage

I took deep calculations once

before I was 18

1/3 of my life was spent hospitals.

I wish


I would


have



been




the





patient






instead of learning about patience.

Looking deeply into pieces of what I was.
Perusing the mosaic of images
That linger in my eyes.
Shards of all shapes an sizes

Moments holding steadfast
So vivid, rich and rank.

This is no wading pool
The depth is great
And the capacity is only fathomed.

It all pulses, sparks, chokes and spits.

There is no hemorrhage
This is all fine
Make assertions
Pound them deep into reality.

Each strike resounds
Like a blacksmith in a cave
Molding shifting
Creation.

Flames that had once receded
Deep into the pit of a forgotten temple.
Stoked sudden & silently by a mere shift of its outer mask
Breathing new life/light
into hallowed grounds.