I thought she was in the room with me
it is now clear she is somewhere across a stretch of rushing thought like a river that pulls those who dare to float down onto breaking rocks. My meaning seems to drown swept away and I make hasty calculations on ****** expressions trying to determine the safe passage for my words. What I would give to be able to unshackle me from my body climb into her head and be done with guessing.
with discomfort and rue old friends met in a bar serving fried intentions and partially baked thoughts. I question how our relationship has morphed or perhaps I no longer have the receptors no taste for their brand of humor. Laugh now too big for the small joke a reflex learned to keep the eyes away from the tunnel that leads to my true heart. I continue to subject myself to ethical jump-rope. For the sake of shared history I stumble past moments of awkward being.
days now past for the doses, I would not sleep incantations keeping dark horses at bay, crowding the edge of sensation with a tension that kept me buoyant yet moored. draw all fast fumbling thoughts heartaches flooding into veins discord between passion and intellect as my head drowns needing now too much sleep as if to find the rest of my dreams.
The oil evaporates
sludge taste inhabits my inner-world, The scene assumes a character of brilliance as my eyes are weighted with blood and wonder.
I, myself, crumpled on my desk
amongst strokes ambiguously strewn across the inky darkness (finding parchment) thoughts never make it to impulse I seek to write yet I find I am a character being read by the faceless observer.
I am self-absorbed.
Like a sponge my mind Feeds ambiguously, Until a black mass Is regurgitated Back into existence A contortion of recorded Experience.
I the spiritless animal in a cold urban forest,
snow-treading through for the horn-throwing knuckle-shaving glass-blowing light-showing of a place in a town of a city in a country of a world in a stretch of stars they call milk then pain, tears, stretch marks and wrinkles, alcoholism, guilt, moderation within annihilation, coming out now for the big scenes, the big show of it all.
Old poem from a wintry city.