it's not like adjacency pairs
where
good morning comes with hi
good bye with seeya

it's good day, fck you and thank you.

If this were to be the last of my odes,
Wait, an ode this isn’t for all of them,
Let me tell of this poet’s misfortunes
That has engulfed her to a requiem.

Everyone who sees her turns to sweetness,
Who wouldn’t turn down her cozy ambiance?
No wonder they turn to her blessedness,
Heart so crystal pure you won’t miss a chance.

She desires to fulfill her own heart song
And change from a sad and perilous past.
Alas, Fate is toying her all along,
Plummeting her to a prison aghast.

Now, she is but drowning in her own blood,
And all she can do is wait for Hades;
I see her soul being caught by the rod,
Gasping for her life, clasped into Eris.

Sadly, she falls to a tragic pure death,
Her carcass as feast for the dogs and worms.
Meanwhile, her soul is given for a breath
A dark ambrosia rejected like germs.

I can’t help but cry of how life fared her,
But no, pity isn’t to be given;
All the pangs of pain, she’s now the bearer,
Anon, the goddess of the forsaken.

I stayed away from fire
i watched my brothers burn
I waited in the trees
until it was my turn
Success is often yearned
the opposite of failure
Eating at each other
to see which ones are braver
Never did i cater
to devils on my spine
they crawl upon my back
Attempt to touch my mind
divine ;
I clawed my way to see you all the time
love is not for me adjacency to lust is blind
Clinging to the one who made me feel like she was mine
expectations high only to die inside confined ;
You wanted something greater
you swore that things were pure  
Instead she stabbed your back ;
then showed you to the door..

We speak in subtext,
Our cultural reflex.
Hesitancy with bracing context.
Consistency in anything less.
Change be the fuel to ignite this mess.
Unfortunately fear halts all energy.
Inspires complacency.
Mental adjacency.
Readily dissolving all faith in me.
Washed and recycled, We’re happily exiled.
Meticulously choosing to revel in denial.
Listening to ourselves,
The gate keepers of hell.
Selfishly selfless,
Utterly helpless.
Lying to the heart,
The stoic open cell.

Some changes happen too quickly
To observe with the eye -
Some fractures flex so fast one wonders
    where they came from, suddenly
Water is leaking in,
The mind floods, you didn't intend
To let things get so dismayed.

Some changes happen so slowly
They can only be noticed in retrospect,
Collapsing each frame into immediate adjacency,
Only later appreciating each movement and change,
Trying hard to reckon all the time that has passed,
Suddenly sick with your inability to recollect -
Where did each minute go? What did
    each moment try to say when
    you weren't listening?
They eventually wrote you a note and left -
    no phone number to call, no address to follow -
But it isn't your fault you couldn't see
Each changing thing, each slow tear, every
    wear and stretch,
Most aren't even our doing, most things
We don't expect to break, but everything
    degrades,
Day after day, eventually, in
Reviewing each crease it's obvious
How things have folded and bent
Again and again, but only after
The lines are permanent.

Flowers growing in my heart..Bees will make love to their faces. Empty spaces in my chest iv yet to find  replacements...Something in your aura, foreshadowing adjacency from blazing loves euphoria.

The birds would sing about her, The trees were always watching, I often dreamed about her, until my blood was splotching..

imagine:

sitting on A stool on a stage
Small and creaky
aroma of coffee and maybe a cigar and sweet casualty in the air
imagine singing your mother’s favorite song to remember her softly
then Coming off stage
(greeted by your love poking your side so laughably irritating)
to sip a now tepid coffee, made by someone who knows your name
as you watch a neighbor go sit on the same stool
singing a song Of funny nostalgia that tickles the sides of your heart
reminding the room of our collective Age
with a chuckle and a smirk exchanged
and recounting the beautiful memories of lives lived in adjacency to one another
that makes up such a quaint Story

imagine that.

Place the day
Shredded paper soil pours the rose composed for those with better things to grow into the air
Smokey silhouettes dressed in regret pressed against the echoes of its flare
Sparing the nights received stares of ambivalence
A sentence spun to run on too long
In a song with too many notes
broken in a sense few would know how to sense
or think to try
To vai through ethereal rope for ways to cope
with another day of smoke
Just wait and choke
Consider the ways it broke
Deliver another craven joke
Then slither away at once and pray the planted stems response
is the one we'd hoped it would evoke

But we haven't spoken have we
Coughed a sick joke and no ones laughing
Are you happy
Free from a tether whether we were ready or not
Lock step in a crowd head down
Feathers in a knot
Trapped me in apathy
Had to be hard
And I'm sad that I'm happy
Playing the part

Place the night
Over a lifetime of work and lurch
When the dirt under your nails edges into pale skin
Sickening little scratches tapping rickety veins placing marks to track the pain on a line this thin
An addiction.
Affliction born from your own choices
sworn to poison from the inside out beginning to end.
Send the sin from your nerves with urgency
turbulent little displacements of adjacency
And graciousness erase us
As we face and feed the fire
With emaciated traces rehearsed  when we preach to choirs.
Indecent liars
destined for and inspired by greatness swooning under the weight between each action
feeling dire chasms open
soon after the broken reflections of our spoons feel the heat from lighters