In this hou se I sit on a chair t hat has yet to be m oved it takes tim e to pack up furnitur e that decorated a home I trace my f ingers on a groove in the wood grain of the kitchen table a mistake f rom when you cut app les without a cutting bo ard for you were runni ng late to work and d idn't have time to take care but it was okay what was one mark on a wooden table anyway ? I was not angry about i t perhaps I should've be en since you feel like I don't feel anything then maybe you wouldn't be moving out of my hea rt without me
A little while back (can't remember how long ago actually) I was doing a whole bunch of poems with different breaks in them to mimic different bone fractures. This is one that I hadn't been able to post because I just couldn't get a grasp on what I was trying to say. Still not sure if I've communicated anything but hey, it's in my drafts and I'm tired of it sitting there. Soooo what do you all think?
on the day of the double funeral I stand waiting for the rest of me to die, I am that I am but I harbor a bad disease. i should be anywhere and be doing anything other than what i am. because before Abraham was i am standing in the empty quarter reading a funeral manual on the day of the double sky burial. i’m poisoned off my pouch of yesterday’s mana. gums are bleeding this is yesterday’s daily bread. men cannot live off bread alone and the jackrabbit horde is coming home our own locust plague for a new Sahara. i stand with a hangman’s fracture lost on the old sermons in the sand. following my family’s footsteps sadly in the wrong direction, lost among the marking rocks. snow leopards of the black blizzard and my poison pouch of mana. drowning in the fires we cook a stray dog reaping all the whirlwinds I sound a 12 foot Tibetan horn on the day of a double funeral - perched in the dwelling of the solitude.
This femme fatale A girl that captures She be bright and skin tight Shiny white with youth implied Conversing in quirky loops As we jump through her hoops Slowly showing error codes Could it be the alcohol Clap snap of bear traps Broken from within Signs of white lines that fracture Reactions to vast echoes of her past Trauma tinged before the dawn Soft but informed A hardened persona with claws
i am utterly depressed cascading carelessly toward a home i know so well and with every breath getting closer to the last of mine taken breaking ground anew inside desiccated places where few have traveled before me for i have been the only traveler here i feel that's the way it's supposed to be
remorselessly remote in an ever expanding universe we each sit alone in our tiny little pastures fractured but with a curse for connection and a penchant for self destruction generally of ill intention
'tis but a sight upon which we must gaze one another across a thousand milky ways with hope that these sights might meet and greet so to speak each others swift heartbeats soon replete with lust and callous needs
or is it a mirage my minds own trickery that deceives me believing so easily what my heart wants to see such fantasies don't seem to be free in reality they can be quite costly
perpetually expecting the exact same thing from the same set of circumstances when what's happened before has caused such a guaranteed calamity seems i must be crazy and that's ok with me