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John K Trainer Jul 2020
They say; but who are they, that say,
That cloth is my armor
It shields me from the unknown and unknowing
It hides my nose and mouth but doesn’t hide my shame
I am unrecognizable, unnatural, and anonymous
I lose my unwillingness to protest my anonymity on the ignorant
I have waited a thousand lifetimes to hide in the open
To see and not be seen
To breathe the stale air of my breath
And exhale the poisonous gas that would otherwise be words
Lost are those with false entitlements seeking to resurrect past ailments
Pity me and madness, they say
They are to whip up a storm; a gale
Phones at the ready, for another star, will explode
A supernova at the entrance of Walmart
They dim before the Sunsets
They turn into a Black Hole and Donut Holes then,
*** holes.
John K Trainer Mar 2020
The dimly black craggy door
That hides bottomless secrets
Opens and closes with hollow cruelty
And is silent as the moon

So difficult it is to knock and let myself in
Pushing is useless, like pulling the trigger with the safety on
I have dreams of passing the threshold
And scream “Echo” in that empty room

Hearing nothing in return
This is where I awaken, a dream in a dream
All the lies I’ve seen and wear as my skin
A fabulous mask without eyes or a mouth

My house is painted a rainbow of monochrome
One door, Two windows, A chimney and a garden gnome.
It is where you will find me
Hidden away under the floorboards

Looking through the cracks of gleaming pine
Shaped like man
White satin sheets to comfort me
And a new suit
John K Trainer Jan 2019
She came upon me with the weathered wings of a late winter nor’easter
Howling with screeching ecstasy and the anticipatory trance that follows
The piercing, splintering painful delights that reaches into my depths
Enigmatic eyes that judge my every motion
I drop my guard; flinging my shield of past tragedies to the barren ground
I’m caught in the sticky web of love
Wrestling halfheartedly attempting to convince myself I have fought the good fight
I hold on tight to anything within reach before the gales of temptation commence
I sense pain, delight, emptiness, belonging, blackness, and enchantment simultaneously

She holds the power of life and death in her grasps and won’t release her hold until I allow her to suffocate my heart
John K Trainer Jan 2019
I don’t want your salvation
I just want your understanding
The streets I walk are empty now, filled with regret
The sky is overcast with despair, thundering its agony
I have no memory of our dreams anymore,
All flushed away in the remembrance sewer
I feel so alone
If you continue to embrace my state, you can expect to be disappointed
My expedition into the underworld is well trodden
If it helps, I’ve overcome this journey before
A whiff of jasmine and sandalwood has stirred me before
A bright autumn day or a brisk summer breeze
Has been known to pull me from my the subterranean vault
And yet I have always expected another return spree
Always anticipating and strangely joyful
That this will be the last trip
And I will finally find the peace and quiet
Of the vacuum of space
John K Trainer Sep 2018
My memory vault harbors no treasure
From youth it’s where I store tragedy
A vacuum that ***** up heartbreak
A Black Hole where grief and pain cannot escape
Memories replay over and over
Death, disasters, accidents, and misplaced trust
And yet I’m sad when death wipes a vault clean
Where is happiness stored?
Something other than Christmas morning
But there it is; a happy thought.
I should dig deeper with a bulldozer instead of a trowel
John K Trainer Apr 2018
It’s nearly half a month since the equinox
Drenched in the cold among the dead
Anticipatory of any color other than grey
The tree branches disfigured from winter
A lone squirrel zigzags to avoid the quiet killer
The pancake maker
The meandering bruin seeks to devour anything in its path
Leaving a wake of topsy-turvy blue wheeled bins
Spring is that alarm clock with the inviting snooze button
Where is the warmth that was promised?
Where is the rain that is dreaded?

New England’s ravenous ground is ready
For winters waiting cadavers
How long must they wait?
Spring is anticipated with its many preconceptions
It eases in and is hardly noticed
Warm days intermingle with the frigid
Until frost is an intolerable memory
Spring is manic depressive
John K Trainer Mar 2018
I am free to sway from my precarious perch
Outstretch my wings of sullen words
And soak up the shadow light
Of another winter’s night

Morning is nigh and blanketed
By dawns lethargic cotton-bally sky
Melodic chirping and the droning on
Of another winter’s morning

The Sun’s warmth has yet to reach my hollow bones
Motionless and afraid
My indignation is not yet complete, reticent
Of another winter’s afternoon

And the light that once illuminated my soul
Has dimmed on this weary day and
I take flight as the red dusk promises the hope
Of another winter’s evening
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