a girl in the middle
Folded Golden Bay,
Baking in the Sun.
Friendless- my way.
Hold it; Warm Rays
Sold it- For a Rainy Day.
Faking all the Fun.
Like a flame igniting an old engine
A frisk of energy sparked
Turning my rusty, frozen gears
And restoring my memories of you.
In a hidden corridor in time -
A dimension since locked away
We two share an instant -
An unobtainable, infinite moment.
Like a fog creeping in on my soul -
An ironic, melancholy nostalgia;
I dream of sunlight on canopy roads
In a place I once called home.
Trapped in a reality without you
We've since broken our promise,
Extinguishing the embers
We swore to smolder forever.
This life is a sort of purgatory -
A spiritual test and journey;
A short waiting period before
We again walk hidden corridors.
© Outside Words
always so warmly bathed in the sun of the East Coast,
with such soft cheeks and swamp eyes,
stagnant and wet with little creatures inside.
They're talking to me,
saying things about why I love you,
or if I even do.
Little flower face,
it makes me ache
in my muscles and my bones,
when I think of your soft petals and long draping stalks.
I wanna pat the sandy earth into place around you on nights like these
when I can imagine the warm breeze
coming in through your open window despite the cold around me
delivering a freeze
to **** all the plants
and transform this world into something so different from your reality.
2237 November 14 2018
You didn't really think of anyone else,
but who am I supposed to blame?
Yeah, you may not find fame,
you may not really smile,
and I know that with this
hell's only growing for us.
I can feel fire with the knot in my throat,
when he says I should not have my own thoughts and opinions,
especially not in these conditions,
cause I know you gotta escape.
Yeah, hell's about to get so much worse,
and I am about to get so much more terse,
but it's for you so I hope this pays off.
2123 November 12 2018
I can wipe away tears
and wrap my arms around a friend
to comfort him
when I am saying goodbye to someone I have known since the day I was born
but I cannot hide the turmoil so well
when I crouch on the bedroom floor
packing for him
getting ready to live without him.
2355 November 15 2018
I lived in a town where Sunny D dreams rested lazily on Mondays.
Nothing is go go go - no - it’s lazy to rise. Lazy to bed. Lazy to meet up with friends at the beach. Lazily chewing on donuts while we listen to songs that lazily leak through the teeth of our radio free censorship both lazily digesting in our sour guts making us lazy in the way we think. Feeding off the television, white noise static permeating the folds of our lazy minds. We now regurgitate headlines at parties lazily arguing, debating, though not a single thought is our own. We are lazy in the way that we say we’ll accomplish something. Making up little kid dreams for broken promises of “I’ll get to it tomorrow”. But we never do. Never did. Just lazily puff on ***** shards. Our crushed bits of ignorance. Every night. Lazy sods. Working, sleeping, working, smoking, sleeping, working.
The cycle goes on.
In this land where time takes a nap. Where magnolia groves now rest lazily in the space of an old man’s memories. You see, even time is lazy among salty air humidity that clings to lungs in a wet rag sensation so that we are lazy even in the way that we breathe. That’s why our grandparents tell us all those stories. So that we are not caught up in the lazy way light filters through the leaves of citrine sunsets that mingle into dawn.
Still, we yawn a question “what was I supposed to be doing again?” Here in this land where we all seem to exist in a static myth. Start another lazy day. Lost to IT. The big IT. The ever growing IT. The IT that consumes our lazy days with lazy work and lazy sleep and too much lazy play.
It’s easy here to let go of what this land used to be. Back when gold ships carried Ponce de Leon upon God’s wings to a place where Highway 19 was no pavement or brick or man made industry but rough and raw and hot
and undiscovered Timucuan territory. We effortlessly lose sight of our own history to lazy daydreaming
of time leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow
leaking into tomorrow leaking into tomorrow
Until your future
leaks into tomorrow
Until you wake up from this lazy hell.
Until you realize there is nothing left ahead on your lazy path
Until the future has become your present and you are out of
Days to dawdle and to say “I will deal with it tomorrow” before it all
None too slowly
Comes to a clashing end.
"I'll be fine," she said.
The last words she told me.
Before we were cut off
Over some imminent natural disaster.
It brought destruction
Destroyed numerous buildings and homes.
People are without power, or anything else.
And I'm just praying that she's alright.
She said she'd be fine.
But I can't help but panic.
My thoughts are scattered, I can't focus on anything else.
My heartbeat is quickening just imagining the worst.
I have to know if she's okay
But there's no way to reach her, not like this.
And only then I realize the pain
Of our long distance relationship.
Even if you can't hear me
I'm whispering those three words we exchange
And even if you can't read this now
I hope this reaches you somehow, someway.
I know you said you'd be fine.
But I'm still thinking the opposite.
Maybe I'm being stupid, maybe I'm just paranoid.
But either way, I can't help but feel like this.
Be safe, all of you.