It's as sad as it gets...
To behold the world out there
Bursting with magnificent colours
While I'm comfortably stuck
On the other side of the glass
Drowning in my own inertia

I see you
as I study my homework,
wanting to impress you
with my grades
I see you when I'm sad,
as a reminder of all
that I do have
and what I do not;
you make me admit,
in spite of my stubbornness,
I am more
than I think I am
my brain has been the enemy
and my body has been
the most vile essence I know
for I have bruised it
too many times
that I could never
deem it as beautiful,
but you show me
I am not represented to you,
as I am to myself.

There is always Orpheus, where there is a song,
There are always veins, where there is love,
And they are always bursting with so much grief,
Pero il cielo è sempre piu blu quando sono con te.

Dio is an enveloping death, nature consumes and embraces,
Inertia, an ally among us there, the smile of an ending here,
But all endings, always ora, orbiting our feigned vita,
Ma, il vero sole esce per giocare, solo alla fine.

your skin creates peace inside me
creating wrinkles in time
i find myself constantly longing to feel you close
for us to create friction between gravity
our inertia to propel us into voids of pleasure
nothing between us is what i desire
but when you deny me
black holes devour me
crushing my guts into pulp
bleeding me with your rejection
i blend till i am nothing from what i began

Might we not linger
Longer here a while
Within this silken web we've woven
All yester's threads cling soft
The spindle, rusted & golden, lies
This finifugal hold dead hopes oft have
Time's sinews blinkering prospecting eyes
Might we not linger
Convenience sighs

Once around the block and done.

No extra-time or after parties,
just a head-spinning rattle
from itching frustration
to breathless incredulity
at the pace of it all

So please, by all means
saunter, dance, crawl, or wriggle
as the situation demands,
although sometimes you’ll still kvetch
at slow walking goons in the supermarket
and want to crack the back of their heads
and educate them about trolley etiquette
and getting the heck out of your
important way

Try to love pastoral pauses,
either in your mind’s green eye
or if lucky, in a glade
as real as bark and river pebbles
where cousins, lovers, friends,
pendulum on rope swings
to an abandoned splash

However hard,
hearts don’t beat well solo

second hand pushes up
the weight of minutes,
in turn lifting hours

it struggles climbing
from seven to eight
slipping back a bit

by nine it trembles
but inserts itself
notch by notch

the last fifteen seconds
are desperations of
loud ticks

and when the twelve is
reached, it brief rest
is pushed overtime—

plunging straight down
to the six again,
loosely swinging.

the minute felt a slight
nudge forward, but the
hour paid little attention...



"the inertia of a moment"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved