Micah

Micah Aug 2014

just short of six.

brick by brick.
    transfixed and intermixed
        with her
            bag of tricks.
                what she can’t forget
                    she cold sweats away.

she plays russian roulette with
    old cassettes bringing back
        memories for kicks.
            ***** and giggles.
                licked away by
                    twenty-something years time,
                        and not a second too late.
                            or too soon.

and it clicks in her head that
    sickness comes in many forms.
        adorn by some,
            and conflict of others.
                sticks and stones,
                    but now she gets
                        the weakness shown.

it’s nothing a bottle of bourbon
    and a pack of cigarettes
        won’t fix.

Micah May 2013

seconds and chances

three seconds ‘til the aftermath
strayed from the path, though
but stuck on re(j/fl)ections
the soundtrack’s refractions
and these injections resonate
we’re infected, we:
hesitate artist style, we:
contemplate our smiles, we:
complicate what we’ve compiled
reviled, deceived,
relieved and beguiled
we dispose of love
get rid of love
sort of hid regret of what we’re:
sick of,
proud of,
patient of,
devoid of,
bereft of,
part of,
one of,
out of,
undreamed of,
tired of,
conceived of,
part of,
most of,
deprived of,
empty of:
everything we
let go of
yet free of (to a degree) regret
but not
wrought, somewhat
three seconds, but…

Micah Jan 2013

once

Brown roots burn
— black ashes
The systematic crashes we’ve devised
Revised our future
— to repeat the past
Was this all too fast?
— Too slow?
Another empty show of hands
The bands have left
— and the stage has cleared
The page has turned
— and the ink has dried
Now it’s just:
You and I
Green eyes
— Suicide
Halycon
— On and on
But now you’ve gone too far
Play the 45, and I’ll see you
— when the album ends
The bends of your lips
— your collar bones and hips —
— Your moans
Gather your pens
— and spell it out
yell and shout
— until your message is clear:
— I’m dying to hear your voice
Or maybe I’m just dying
Time is running thin
Yet time is a myth
— and death is a dream
It seems it’s time to wake up
— for the sake of us
You and I
Green eyes
— Suicide
Halycon
— On and on.

Micah Jan 2013

frequently inaccurate changes

the buzz and the blurrrrrr…
the absurd contingencies
the adjacency of our dependencies
(not discrepancies)
i and her
we demur the frequencies
the inconsistencies we deter
the buzz and the slurrrrrr…
what was and deferred
the efficiencies of three
us, we, but not them
and the absentee
her and me
NOT THEM
to condemn it and spin
the sins we could make
and our skin to awake
wherein we wont forsake where we begin
began
i and she
i and her
her and me
she and me
we, us
the buzz and the…

Micah Jan 2013

green eggs and ham

another gasp
raspy voices and coughs
scoffs and laughs
and the time that passed
here we are again
we knew, or
maybe just you
maybe i was just blind
hindsight and minds might
turn out the light
love, lust, and secrets
regrets and rust
there is no trust in us
we knew, or
maybe just i
maybe a lie
i’ll show you how to spell good-bye
but i’ll miss you tonight
but not for attention
retention, retained,
exasperated and sprained
i tried
but what for?
sometimes the effort isn’t enough
we knew, or
maybe just you
maybe a fix, but
not mine
affixed and fine
but not really

Micah May 2012

bridges, and her son.

Refill your coffee cup.
Copy and cut
—the pieces that fit.
It’s hard to break habit.
The message was clear
—it’s what we held dear.
The shadows and fear
—were just an illusion anyway.
It’s the price we pay… the things we say:
the adjectives, the verbs,
—but not the nouns.
We’re not that profound
—not yet.
Light a cigarette.
Take a pull and take a sip.
It’s hard to hit home when
—you’re still alone.
Just another reminder
—of the time spent beside her.
But it’s running out.
And these cliche sayings
won’t refill the hour glass.
As the memories pass…
The sound of her voice
—and the choices we made.
We’ve paid our dues
—and went our separate ways.
Light another cigarette.
Take another pull and
—take another sip.
Put down your broken coffee cup.
Copy and cut.
These pieces no longer fit.

Micah May 2012

mine or yours?

No keys have turned these locks too far
The clocks, we seized and burned
Erased? Replaced? No…
We’ve just misplaced the time
(not a waste)
Together
To get her
For the fair weather

Lesions learned
Not lessons
And not life
Scars. Burned.
Not bridges
Increase or lessen?
I’m unconcerned

The dreams did matter
It’s the wine glass, shattered on the wall
Ashes, ashes, and in the end we do not fall
Crash and clatter
Hopes and dreams?
The places once redeemed?
Now crooked like these leaves
Deceive, seethe,
Grief and release?

Please to pleasure
But mother **** the fair weather
Fine. I’ll release these ties that bind my
throat and wrist.
And I’ll give you the gist of it all
Ashes, ashes, in the end we fall
Smashed and battered
Hopes and dreams?
What the **** do they matter?
Tattered and torn
Like the wine glass, scattered on the floor
But the door shut when you walked away

But I still miss it all
I’d take the chance, the fall again
Only if I knew

Sundays may be the hardest
But for me it’s every
The envy of the other’s kiss
The other’s fu— I’m sorry… ***
The nights and weekends I reminisce
While you over(?)analyze

Unconditional, yes
As it always will
So long as it’s still free
So long as I can still breathe
And so long as I have these skeleton keys
Your keychain may be empty, but not mine
And your love… life… it may all be lost
but not mine

For I am longing, and I AM with trust
And I do care for the dust

I’ve been burned
I have the scars
But I am no different
I breathe

But not so easily anymore

— The End —