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.

this town seems faded
but i can still see the stars.
they hang held by strings from the sky
and whisper questions with answers i wish to know.
they ask me where i am going to go
i tell them how much so
i too, wish to know
on simple days
i always know

they ask me where i am going to go
i can pretend to know the answers but they know
i will never know
why my heart has grown so fickle
and flickers like the light of these stars
they try to hold down my weak and shaking hands, as i slow
i try to grasp each star like the answer
stretching open my fingers, reaching my hands toward
you.

wishing i could hold you like the answer
to hold your hand and know
i breathe.
stop and remind myself that though today i don't
on simple days i always know
when they ask me where i am going to go.

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.

a faint doubt had occurred to her as to
the quality of her present happiness.
a tender curiosity that came
and went like waves,
stronger only some days.

a faint doubt had rendered her silent
and the painted images of hopeful days
traced the ridges of her eyelashes,
kissed the inside of her longing soul.

she thought of city lights and public parks,
where strangers fall in love
and lovers fall out.
and wished to witness it all

peace blended to one single question
of how to be okay with it all.
her present happiness,
empty parks and
how to be okay with the wonder of okay days.

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.

there is a time for silence
and there is a time for words
there is a time to wonder
and a time to wish
there is a time to love
and there is a time to let go

i always know when my heart wants to go
and hear the subtle silence of sadness.
where are the crooks and crannies of this love?
that leaves me fiddling my fingers, leaves me in wonder

there isn't a time to leave you
like this
i feel an unsettling feeling
there is never a time to leave you

trust me when i say
time has a way
of throwing it all in your face.
hopeful days slip through the grasp
of your fingers
and daylight leaves you,
taking your reasons with her
there is a desire to be completely invested
but do nothing at all.
there is a tendency to lie flat on a cold wooden floor
where things seem to be able to fix themselves,
stare blankly at the ceiling as if it will change things
there is a passion lost
she is lost.