I want to do something,
not for you,
something for me,
something gleaming with everlasting renown.

Throughout this fraction of life,
I have grazed this objective
like a lover's fingers
tracing the profound edge's
of the starving artist's spine;
I have tasted that moment of completion
but only in the smallest dose,
like that last drop
that collects around the bottle's rim.

I cannot say this life has been mediocre,
but I yearn for the exceptional.
I'm tired of seeing lesser fools
idolized by fools more talented than them.
I'm tired of the chorus,
let me write a new verse.

And though the greatest agony I bear
is that I may never reach that fabled nirvana,
I hold close the dreams
that make believers out of fools like me.

A bottle beneath her cab in a pick-up truck
or the fifth caught here behind the wheel
If pride wouldn't don a cat about this vision wholly refined again
and like a goat with a kid tied this climb atop the land
and she found with her chickens in this ford or a pig there
to book the dance with them all backstage
and now her life was still full of assuage even so she sings
the finer things in life here with that ***** in his belt.

The blood, bones and organs of beauty
are figure, poise, grace and glow,
just as memory, intelligence, reflex and intuition
compose the talent.
Anyone can have skill with inclination and diligence
and God has given us all the talent
to translate skill into action,
action for development or destruction.

4th. Nov. 2016

i keep a red
second place
ribbon on my
bulletin board
to remind me that
i wasn't good enough

i keep defeat in
my back pocket
and failure
on my skin.

(i didn't realize
how nice it was
to actually be
good at something
and i didn't realize
how easy it was
to stop being
good at something)

took the things
i was good at and
cashed them in
for a quieter night

i can't eat
can't sleep
can't write
can't design

bake a pie
write a poem
cross stitch
crochet
i'm not
bad at it.

i still have
hobbies but
it's not like
it used to be
i'd rather
be cleaning
at least i can
do that well

(isn't that
a little odd
considering that's
exactly what somebody
a little bit too close
to me was feeling
when his world got
turned upside down?)

i'm just not
good at anything
not anymore
but it's my own fault i'm sure.

I know nothing of writing or the art of poetry. I just break myself in my hands and let my heart trickle through the cracks and onto the page.

My only talent is breathing

Your only talent is leaving

Talent as leaving me
breathless

You stole my only talent
now I'm talentless

Yet a talent kept
a talent with pride you possess

You got quite a talent for leaving

I lost balance when you left

I lost talent when you left

I just wish you were leaving my breathe

But I'm a talentless mess
you're leaving with my talent

I just want one last breathe.

You'll be sitting on a step
Some party raging behind you
And you'll be contemplating walking home,
Or finding that girl from earlier
The one who tangled her fingers in your hair while you kissed,
When it'll happen.
A girl, maybe 18,
Will plop down beside you,
Purposefully skin to skin,
and she'll smile.

She'll pretend she's more drunk than she is
And you'll want to protect her.
Like always.
People will be looking for you,
The life of every party now,
Inside the house
But you won't care.
This girl will tell you she's got to walk home,
And you'll take her hand,
And tell her to lead the way.
She'll lean over and kiss you,
Just like she planned she would,
Just long enough to give you the right idea.

You'll stand up together
Wobbling just a little
And she'll start walking
And you'll keep pace and a lookout.
She'll glance at you,
Hunger in her eyes
Waiting to feed off the attention you wrap yourself in,
Like an otter in seaweed.

You'll become very aware of the condoms in your pocket
You might think about how you need to buy another box
As she's the fifth girl this month to take you home

Hungry for the fame
Hungry for the attention
Hungry for the talent
But not hungry for the you inside.
And you'll know it,
I hope.

Stay safe out there, love.
I'll remember.

why oh why,
does my ability only reveal itself when i'm choking on the truth(?) of the inability for someone to love me
why,
does the wall that constantly hinders me from expressing how i feel only tear down when i do the same to myself
why,
is forming and keeping words together only easy when i can't manage to keep my own self together?
why?

I didn't give them blood because it was all I had left to give
It was only that I valued my own time so much more
Wallowing in a trench was more important then talent
So I lied and said I did all I could
That I did so much and tried to get so far
But blood has only ever fed the heart not the mind
So what I gave was all forgotten
All I had left was this ******* time
Half wasted out of hope, half still slinking down;
A rabbit whole filled with aspirations of all I've ever wanted to be
Childhood dreams all scribbled out in desperation
I should've taken the easy way out when I had the chance
But a void made with blood can not be ended with slaughter
I'll just add to this red sea, hoping to fill my sight in a solid tone
So I can't see any of my past