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blue mercury Apr 2017
it's almost like we
glow in every moment now
i feel like we're stars

i didn't think i had the ability to ponder possibility anymore. but here i am, laying in bed, thinking of the future. i want to offer you, and only you, forever. however long forever lasts, (i wouldn't know i've never been) you can have mine.

we're floating in air
our feet never touch the ground
my heart knows the way

split into a better person i want to empty my veins and give you all i've got. i want you to see that time is endless. with you, i am suspended in time. although, we could have every day for the rest of our lives, but that still wouldn't be enough for me. i want eternity- is that too much?

i want careful love
but i also want to be reckless
i'll blossom for you

you say that you don't want to leave me, so you want to go, in two years to college in-state. i love that i'm someone that you want to change the path you take for. two years is a long time from now though and i'm scared we're too young to plan that far ahead. i'm scared of everything these days.

i'm afraid your mind
will change the moment my eyes
are closed - scared to blink
blue mercury Dec 2016
i spit out a fever and inhale a disease. there isn't much to see other than the time we let go to waste, the lovers we still forgot even with their faces always on the refrigerator. what you can not see is not real, what you can not touch isn't either.

in this endlessness,
i can't stop the raging fear;
it's a hurricane.

you don't know what you want to get out of me and i don't know why i look at you and see everything i've ever wanted. maybe it's those eyes, or the truth i sought to find when you called me beautiful. rushing, busy, busier, i go everywhere and nowhere but you're still on my mind.

flimsy tragedies
still fall from bending backwards.
how did we get here?

head over heels is an understatement i fell, heart out of mouth for you. i threw up my heart and my head spun around like a carousel. i was the clown and you were the ring master. sometimes you can't tame lions. sometimes the lion tames you.

i bleed beautifully,
fell in love with ideas,
hoping for the man.
why is love so complicated?
blue mercury Oct 2016
the taste of blood in my mouth is becoming a lot like the twinge in my ankle. it's my own fault, it used to concern myself and others. but i'm learning to live with it. i'm learning to adapt.

it's really not fair
those ocean eyes drag me down
into their whirlpools.

there are times when i want to smoke. nicotine rubbed into my fingertips. clutching my lungs until the day it lets go. that day will be the day the rest of me lets go with it. finished. done. better. sometimes i wish i was a habitual smoker. that can't possibly count as sin.

i used to defy
gravity like a full moon.
i'm dreaming once more.

you can leave. i'm saying this because i don't want you to, and i know you don't want to. but if you think i'm okay with diving into a land of "i don't ******* know"s, maybe i can convince you to stay.

i used to believe.
magic. love. nothing is real.
i'll break my own heart.

i'm gripping the rope that is the possibility of us us us us. us in america- everything is worse here, but i'm here, don't you want to be too? i'll be a girl. the perfect girl. short skirt, long jacket, and a mask of a face. full of unheard whispers, and sweet simple suggestions.

*i'll leave america.
i'll find you somewhere i'm not.
i'll be submissive.
a haibun inspired by gravity by EDEN and my messed up life (song)
Richard j Heby Aug 2016
three years and it's over in an instant, i can't face the reality of my reality growing so different. I used to look over to the empty couch and think you would be there, but you often weren't, you were somewhere else and now you won't be there at all anymore

hiding shy until –
the passing train
Ron Sparks Jun 2016
(note - This is a haibun; a Japanese writing form that combines haiku with prose.)*

Two days on the road, two thousand miles on my motorcycle. Hard miles; my *** so sore that every bump in the road brings biting pains up my back and down my legs.

I’m riding alone. No highways. No hotels. Camping in fields and eating in greasy diners. Seeing the America not available to the Interstate. The real America. I’m rough riding across the continent and this isn’t a mid-life crisis. I’m on a mission.

There’s been a ghost haunting me for five years. And yesterday, somewhere on the back roads of Nebraska, I left that ghost, the ghost of my cancer, behind. The specter of death that lingered on me, over me, and around me after excision of the tumors is finally gone.

Contrary to opinion, ghosts are heavy. With mine gone, I ride through the night – the stars and my newfound peace my sole companions. I stop only when the false dawn begins to turn into the real thing.

serpentine road
​curves into the sun;
  my throttle opens

The country diner I find myself in front of welcomes both me and the morning sun. I’m tired, sweaty in my leathers, and covered in road dust as I enter. And I’m deaf, the roar of the road is still loud in my ears.

I tell the waitress I take my coffee black – as black as my soul. My joke falls flat; what comes from my mouth is a rough growl, thanks to a dry throat. It earns me dark looks from the other diners. The ***** biker with no manners.

I have a moment of tired reflection and then I get a visitor to my table. An old lady, dressed in her Sunday best, moves with slow deliberation and takes an unexpected seat across from me. Her frail hands wrap my grimy ones in a cool and gentle grip.

Her eyes, framed by a wrinkled face that smooths as she smiles at me, capture mine before she bows her head and prays loud enough for all to hear. “Lord, please help this young man find his way. He’s lost, alone, and needs your guidance to help cleanse his heart and his soul.”

She kisses my hand and, without another word, stands again. There’s a reverent silence as we all watch her sit back down at her table and take a bite of her breakfast as if nothing exceptional had just occurred.

I look out the window as the rising sun reflects off of my bike, thinking that, here, maybe it wasn’t really that exceptional at all.   And thinking; lady – I’m not lost; I’m finally finding myself again.

red cardinal
alights upon my bike –
  notices me
This is a haibun; a Japanese writing form that combines haiku with prose.
Ron Sparks May 2016
You've been here before.  You woke up today and realized that the stress, the angst, and the foreboding that you've allowed to rule your life is there by choice.  You've gotten lost in the spiral of anxiety, again.

If it's not your health, it's your money.  If it's not the money, it's your kids.  If it's not your kids, you're worried about past life choices and how they will affect you tomorrow.  Your fears line up at the door, wrap around the block, and await their turn.  Your door is open to them all and you don't deny them.  You let them in.  

Once they are inside, you wrap your fears around you.  They’re a welcome smothering; a wearying security blanket of trembling phobia.  They are as familiar to you as they are distressing.  These constant, restless, companions are more comfortable than the unknown.  

Today, though, you stare at the line of fears and realize that something is missing.  Happiness.  Contentment.  Acceptance.  These are conspicuous in their absence.  And you remember an old Cherokee tale.  You have two wolves engaged in eternal battle inside you; one is fear and anxiety and the other is peace and serenity.  The strongest is the one you feed and you've been feeding the wrong wolf.  

You've done this your entire life in a self-centered, selfish, guilt-ridden, indulgent, fashion.  You wallow in the darkness because you're afraid you don't deserve the light.

You know you’ll feed the right wolf today.  But can you do it tomorrow?  

  mighty river;
the fish navigates
​as it will
Haibun is a prosimetric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal.
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