Finished in time to show.

No one, any one, me, at least I see,
I said
life is worth the wait,
to be lived this way without a care.
-- forgot one care
that one I got from Eric Burdon,
heavy, when I was fifteen…
"Lord, don't let me be mis understood."

Do friends have liege relations, value-wise?

If you never were lorded over, can you
grip the handle on the phrase,
uttered long ago, many a witness have reported,
Henceforth {Jesus H. Christ apreachin'}
I call you not servants;
for the servant knoweth not
what his lord doeth:
but I have called you friends;
for all things that I have heard of my Father
I have made known unto you.

It is no secret what words may do

this is how I pass my time to you,
use it right as you see fit,

consider life this gift, there's no price

tedious tardy sleeps are the latest commodity
my advisor‘s eulogized,
though I have dealt with it
for as long as ever.

since I do that exceedingly well.
just once I’d wish to sink into bed,
shut my eyes for a shielded moment,
and find myself revived afterwards.

perhaps my life is
too cluttered with uncertainties,
so my bedlam body unlearned to be happy.

instead, a high demand of despondency
is expected to be appeased by
the insomniac stakeholders of my remains.

I'm sold on a once thoughtful deal I never even made!
Only until I have my wallet in my very jeans back pocket am I willing to be sold towards selling myself clean!

denial:
you tell yourself
they just needed a break
a vacation for the day
until a vacation turns into a week
and a week to a month
then you realize all the questions you have
are left wrapped in cellophane

anger:
your presence to me
was as calm as the sea
until i remembered every promise
you ever made
and then suddenly i become the sea
and these waters are no longer
soothing to me
but are now a violent whirlpool
where all my emotions
end up in the middle of

bargaining:
this is where my “what ifs” come into play
and how my “what ifs”
create a fake imagination
to where it is now a fake escape
from any kind of pain
until i can adjust to what my reality
is now set up to be

depression:
these black out curtains
still aren’t dark enough for me
i can still see your face
sitting in every picture frame
on my walls
with your smile
hanging there picture perfectly

acceptance:
this is the final stage
now i finally feel alive and free
the sun is no longer my enemy
but is now a friend to me
to remind me everyday
that i am alive and okay
i am now content with this
being my reality

here I go,
blundering through another day

trying to show up for my end of
the bargain.

I sit here,
with this pen and this notebook,
and the stuff is
supposed to barrel through me.


it's supposed to shake the debris free.

it's supposed to melt the lock.

it's supposed to blast my cemented mind apart.

it's supposed to summon shadows and make them dance.

it's supposed to swim on the surface of the sun.

it's supposed to show me all the rainbows in the darkness.

it's supposed to shine the silver on all my shredded scraps.

it's supposed to reach through all my ******* and show me:

     emeralds and pearls\teeth and knives\
     blood and glass.

it's supposed to twist the blade and spit in the ****.


but this morning,
it's the big bupkis
     -nada

just the weight
of its silence...



that *******
probably
has the
day off
too.

There is a wishing well where I live,
filled with coins down the bottom,
some are shiny, some old, some rusting into the water.
Circles of copper, silver, aluminum and gold.
Here I will take a bet,
throw my first quarter into the pond,
There it falls with a bubbly thud.
Day by day I will sit by it, murmur a silent prayer,
Doing nothing as the sun set.
So when the dawn comes,
I will get exactly the opposite
of what I wished for,
My coin lost among the thousands,
In this miraculous wishing well.