So I don't know where this is going, but I don't think I ever truly do.
My mind is full,
full to the point of overflowing
But still,
I am alone.
Even the thoughts which constantly fight to gain attention are of no solace.
They do not make me feel alive
they do not make me feel at all.
With all of the happenings that are occuring you would think I would care
but there is no care left in me to give.
I do not even care for the bone and flesh that is my body.
How am i to care for anything else?
I often gather the blankets,
hide away from the world
at the bottom of my bed
where no one can get me
nothing matters
but the deepest darkness which surrounds my form
the heat from my breath which cannot escape so returns to warm me
the rough feel of the woolen blanket against my bare skin.
reminding me
that i am still a part of this crazy world
with all its living
breathing
feeling
things
my arms wrap tighter around my chest
fingers round ribs,
falling into the gaps between each bone
still pressing
still holding
the sharp taste of blood reaches my nose as
in a futile attempt to abait the darkness
each finger delves into fleshing.
pushing
pushing
until the blood rises

though still,
it comes
the screams and the fear

Gentle is the night
after a day's boiling over,
now bathed in small hours
drifting closer to morning.

Weight on my mind
falling softly on eyelids.
A passenger for a pillow
and a meal for the blankets.

...and gentle is the night
when no words are spoken,
for when day break calls,
you again will be broken.

I see colors.
But all I think of is black.
The bright blue of the sky
Is always clouded by ugly grey clouds
In my mind.

Each of my eyes
Sees different things.
One of them sees everything
That any normal eye should;
Family, friends, birds, trees.
A vast blanket of normalness.

The other one, however,
Sees how threadbare the blanket really is.
Sees only the shadows that fall behind
Family, friends, birds and trees.

The other eye sees everything
As it really is.
The other eye realises
That the lush lawn of our humanity
Is really just a concrete floor
Painted green.

As a blanket
Her hair swaddle's me;
As the universe serape's
The pinlight's of God.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley

Our love was like that blanket fort,
your mom told you to take it down but we liked it so it stayed up.
Later you wanted another in the fort that was built for two and it came crashing down on top of us.
I decided to let it be and accept it's failure.
We tried to live with out it.
The blankets were still out and tempted us with every look, you finally asked me to rebuild with you.
After hesitation, I saw it brought you joy and that's all I wanted.
We had a tough time getting it to stay up on its own but once we did it wasn't bad, just not the same.
The inside was smaller and was much more cramped.
We realized how much it had actually changed though outside it looked roughly the same, and no matter what we did we couldn't get it back.
The first great fort was gone and it was time to take this one down, for it caused us too much frustration and too many tears.
Our blanket fort was taken down and it seemed like all that work was for nothing.
Yet now we can build something more permanent and learn from our mistakes.
Hopefully to each find that person who's blankets keep us warm.

w.j.w.k

Sorry I couldn't blanket you,
brother.
Sorry a million, billion times over.
My heart dies for you,
brother.
A million, billion times over.

Sorry I couldn't help you,
brother.
I can only lay here, drenched with salty rivers down my cheeks.
God, I am useless, help him please.
I'm sorry! I am sorry! I'm sorry!
I couldn't help you, my brother!

You are my flesh! my blood!
I will give you all!
But I have nothing at all!
I'm sorry I couldn't blanket you, my brother!

I'll do better.
Just hold on, my brother.
I will come to save you.