Private
Parts


she awakens.
her hands journey to my private parts.
now, they are in the public domain.
I liked it much, so,
I copyrighted her moves.

indeed, I copied them
right down
saved them,
write down,
write here.

ain't young enough to be afraid no more
write what pleases me.

this day leases me
what pleases me
and this is as close as I can come
to being human
and writing my flawless poem.

this pleases me too.

My sadness is mediocre
My words are bland
The thoughts I think were thought before me, I don't understand.
I don't understand why I feel the way I do
But that's supposed to be okay because neither do you..
or you,
...or you.

I'm sorry but I don't want to be like you, though.
I don't want to be a piece of the pie.
I want to be the pan that the pie shapes itself after.
I want to be a blade, a shepherd, and an imprint in time.

My hair is curly, brown, with bronze streaks.
My mood is fairly down with sullen words my world sinks.
Her hair was dark, eyes containing broken earth and lullabies.
My love was true, the only thing not mediocre and that isn't a lie.

Let's dance on a table in a diner full of orphans, and try not to be slaves
to our loneliness.
...Do you love me?
Yes.
...Oh, okay.

Sometimes I want to die so ******* badly, it's hilarious.
I can't **** myself in case she comes back. How amazing.
I can't cut myself because I don't want to scar my flesh because if I do
it may decrease my chances of getting her back.
Even my motivation is mediocre, and my tolerance so strong it could be
mistaken as pathetic.

Put me in a silver chair from across the room she'll stare. My love will go nowhere and I swear to God we are eternal. And you and I infinite, and the world is the wind behind our feet as we run into the inaudible where the world is mute and where our love is loud, in and on my lips you trace the words you did imprint and from lightning you strike the lettered indents you did or did not meant. I cannot decide.

My mouth tastes of chocolate milk, 1993, and 1996.

Insomnia stains my eyes. I can't go to sleep because I see you.

That was so mediocre.

It was a long train I was on
When I saw the sun illuminate the clouds
And cylindrical beams reached the ground
Making me think the heavens had opened
And that there was a way up from down here

I pictured myself, laid flat
Alive. Elevated. Spread arms. On my back.
Floating upwards, transcendent
And never coming back.

And then I imagined meeting you for the first time
Seeing you physically and spiritually
You were there waiting for me, precious.
The child I never met.

I found you alone, still young.
I was crying with happiness
There was nobody else in heaven but us
And I could hold you, touch you for the first time and never stop.

In my head I picked you up
We floated together
We were happy
Because there were no problems.
No reason why I'd be a ****** mother
We had everything we needed just through
Embracing each other.

And then there were no words, no more.
What a dream, I thought.

Maybe in the future the others would join us
But some of them don't really understand
They try.
No, there would just be us.

The train felt longer after that.
Eventually I approached my stop and knew it was my time to stumble off
Wishing I could instead, kiss your head

Thinking about how sad it is that
Heaven doesn't exist.
And neither can you.

I better get in the shower
she'll be home soon
but I can't
I can't get out of bed
A demon pushes me down
but I gotta get up
don't get mad cause I can't

I lost the sincerity in my eyes.
A long time.
I spat the fire out,
Replaced with a fjord.
A glacier cut mountain hole.
Shake and fake trembling.
I killed a little boy in my head
Using logic as a razor to cut his throat and sever his spine till all the jelly in it spill.
Replace with a steel core.
Unmoving.
Brittle, albeit,
Courser skin.
Less heart,
And more dead.
Cadaveric,
No love inside.
Only abhorrence,
For every single existent existence.

But I got girls.
What's that helped me.
Continuation of cycles of self-deprecation.
Grew roots,
Spread limbs,
But cut the phloem out.

Bleed the ******* sap.

discarded twigs
broken branches, brittle to the core
dropped dead to
                           the ground,
slow fuel,
                   for the surrounding,
roots, moss and grass,
to the deep soil,
                        come to the table
                                      the water table,
dig in,
nature's feast,
under feet,
well the least,
                      them worms,
                        will get the most
                           if not more.



©DWE032014

I noticed you today
For a split-second you were unsure
You didn't know the answer
And you couldn't supply the cure

I noticed you today
The way you kept going, the way you endured
And though it may not have ended
Quite the way you'd hoped it would

I noticed you today
And I think you did pretty good!