tomorrow, a test to prove buried thoughts my fingers twist.
i realize this day, i pretend to be tomorrow
don’t say anything with words. try this: after

eyes, almond factories, incessantly inching through rooms
of gold panel and blue staircases
i believe you think wrong of me

praising the regular
i pretend to know a king of jewels and grace
is it possible to tear through years with yourself to be with
another

whatever i do, i realize i have only come here
to run into a piece of literature
and i create myself again and again
*--e.m.

i am worth more
than the coffee stained creativity
written in battered notebooks and used napkins
over looked by eyes filled with the haze of
today's worries and yesterday's regrets
all machines of a self involved world
combining the definitions of equality with conformity
i am worth more
than dreams laced with convincingly false futures
and exaggerated pasts  
plagued from the bottled
no,
judged affection that's stored in my soul like
a prized illusion
i will hold on until my heart is black and blue from the trembling
of the unsteady ground
hold on until the gold veil falls to reveal the blackened soil
hold on
to no avail
i am worth more,
more than the billboards of perfection that line the inside of my skull
stacked thoughts that run to me in the most innocent of mornings
the most blinding of nights
repeated rhythms of mocking truth
i am worth
more than the daily doubts of filtered words
more than formed plastic hearts, black & white minds, and mouths of handlebars labeled: pull or push
more than a mind that shuts down
chooses numbness,
like the constant murmur on a heart monitor after a patient has been announced dead
silence.
time of death 16:29
i am telling you.
i am worth more than the far- sighted wonder of perfect days somewhere,
not here.
the “one day I’ll get there” excuse of not being able to erase this image from my mind,
not this.
as my fingers entwine and fiddle and circle
like a ferris wheel stuck moving in one direction
i do this a lot to distract my mind.
i do this to try and slow it down from running 80mph
to a speed where i can see the lights ahead
without blurs or running colors.
i am worth more than dripping images of a life that is not mine.
*-- e.m. & c.m.

I seem to live in shadows of hope

merely brushing the surface of each day

fearing the moment the

heavy

and merciless world

rests upon my shoulders



I had always rested close to apprehension

pressed my shoulders against failure

surrounded my mind with pillows of worry

fiddled my fingers around lofty dreams

so

these words seem like my only rescue

to uncover whatever is hidden and tucked behind my heart

and I have run my mind in circles

trying to understand the curves and cranies of this,

this.

a semi-precious charmed fog that I live,

have lived,

will not live

*—— e.m.