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 Nov 2014 Riley Defluo
Wild Myths
I exist as a mirror
Wild lights have glazed over your skin
My whispers are tarnished
Our bodies a shield
Against the coming chills of a brittle wind

I linger with a breeze-like touch,
It comes out hoarse and swollen.
Thoughts  uttered with a breath of regret
Or a sigh of relief.

Your face turns foreign, a mesh of dark warmth
A light without the sun.
We’re all a wounded red
on the inside.
 Nov 2014 Riley Defluo
Jack
~

I cast my eyes towards the sun,
beyond the darkened fence, the fielded midnight thoughts,
watching, through clouded images, knowing eventually
I will witness the birth of a new day

I reach with my smile in a curved line
seeking a destiny still unknown but written
in verses of future phrases,
which will come to pass…in multi-colored inks of affection

I send my heart on waves of scented mist,
collected from the corners of my world,
flowing free from silent words and favored gestures
of desire’s endless intentions

I hand my love to nature, freely, willingly…
so that it may be delivered amidst
blooming jasmine and truer promises…to you,
before another dawn’s light finds your beauty and you awake

I cast my eyes towards the sun…yet I seek not its light,
nor its warmth…for all I seek is you
 Nov 2014 Riley Defluo
Someone
I don't know what's going on anymore.
I don't know how to feel.
Am I allowed to feel?
(I don't know that either)
Life's full of 'I don't knows' right now.
I'm a shell.
I've been floating around-but I'm not here.
Not really
I'm just a ghost-
Travelling endlessly
The shift to this strange kind of existence was not an evident one.
One day things were fine,
(Things were never fine)
And then this shift-this shift that changed everything.
This is a lonely kind of existence- having no one.
A dangerous existence.
Maybe I should blame myself-
(It is my fault, right?)
So many questions-
So few answers.
But why does it matter?
I have no one else to hurt.
(But everyone hurts me)
Am I playing the victim?
I just turned the page in my journal.
(I hate turning pages)
That speaks volumes.
I look in the mirror and I can tell that I'm dead.
(Can the others tell?)
I want people to love me-
I want someone to care-
But it's frightening.
I need someone to help me.
(Will you help me?)
I sit in class and I can't feel anything.
I feel everything and nothing at once.
(I sit in class and burst into tears)
To anyone who wants to enter my life:
I'm sorry.
(I'm sorry, but I need you)
Maybe this is clockwork..
(But not clockwise- dear God don't let this be clockwise)
I'm too loud.
I'm too quiet.
I'm not good enough.
(Life is blindness)
I have no family.
(Anna-come back-I need you)
((I need someone, anyone?))
My life is full of 'I don't knows' and 'Maybe's' right now.
I just turned the page again...
I'm writing too big.
I'm not making sense.
I turned the page.
Maybe I should stop writing.
Maybe I should sleep
Maybe I should end th-
No one hears her cries for help.
No matter her volume, she's ignored.
Her voice is just a lost whisper in the abyss.
She knows not if it will return, nor if she can wait any longer.
Stuck behind the glass, she watches her life continue without her.
Always present, but never there.
My future gives me an anxiety that will last a lifetime.
It will not be controlled.
It will not be known.
It's a rather cruel game, don't you agree? Being clueless to the inevitable.
Here it goes again.
Another poem to describe how useless I am.
How tattered my soul is.
How my brain resembles my hands,
callused, numb, and broken dry skin.
I'm a terrible person.
Self indulgent and full of sin.

And here it goes again.
In the mirror I see nothing.
A big steaming pile of nothing.
Full of wasted dreams, 'what ifs' and 'one days.'
The **** that I write never comes out right.
The **** that I dream is just that:
a big steaming pile of nothing.

Here it goes again.
As if I am something.
But I can't get past how useless I am.
A speck in this cosmic dust cloud.
And here I go again, thinking I am a tornado.
How I will crush your dream home
and leave behind a big steaming pile of debris.

Here I go again,
thinking I am nothing.
When really, I am something.
I am a speck in this cosmic cloud,
without me that tornado wouldn't be.
 Nov 2014 Riley Defluo
vxcancy
you painted a beautiful sunset,
full of color and life,
and said it represented me.

you said i was art.

three months later,
you poured black over the canvas



(cjw)
Birds singing
in the dark
—Rainy dawn.
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