"ballet" poems
The napalan man in a violet cape
descended the stair with a lopsided gait
a wretched procession, subscribers in cue
rattling off as they stream from the pew
sounds and smells from a shadowy place
a catholic priest to gin up base
lanterns strung from bolted doors
cobbled streets and wooden floors
stepping stones and iron bell
fortified by the citadel
hallowed halls and sepulcher
dragon cane for the horse drawn tour
castle turret, archer holes
centaur scribed in chamber bowls
garden columns in courtyard view
the blood ballet and hullabaloo
ancient tombs on warrior grounds
gods and saints who made their rounds
goliath still with battered scythe
knelt in prayer and mummified
battle fires and crowds that roar
gallows, caves, abysmal war
gargoyles flock the terraced slope
pearly gates to bring on hope
serpents, snakes and burning ash
lava bombs and trident clash
mariners drift in absentee
as neptune rises from the Tyrrhenian Sea
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
Let me mold my body along your curves; trickle yourself into my entire being
*Vulnerable, **** my heart exposed*, palpably we connect across the starry sky; you ... within me
I want your intimacy to linger along the edges of my lips hours after you've gone
I ache to be consumed by your eyes, intense with emotions, long after the dawn
Take me to your intimate chambers where hearts race; the rhythm of our silhouettes melded on satin sheets
Leisurely feel your way; a slow descend along the avenue of my rhythmic swell; forgive me of my quivering wanton needs
Allow me to graze at the gates of your femininity, drinking the honey from your pink walls; to feel your crowning point between my lips
How can I resist those wandering lips that stirs the curtains of my garden alcove; perfectly painted in honey dew, I throb for the touch of your kiss
Drape your thighs upon my shoulders; let the waves of satisfaction cascade up your spine
I beg to be released, dear God, of this intoxicating spell; I submit myself, heart laid bare; oceans of emotions no longer can I hide.
Find your eyes locking with mine; my torso parallels yours, my body pressed to you; equal in ferocity and tenderness
Mesmerize by your burning eyes in our melting flesh, so strong your hold; yet so tender your caress
Utter our names in fiery moans both whispered and screamed in heated breaths on our solitary night
Vile obscenities float out on heated breath, as cool air kiss our molded skin on the evening our time takes flight
Take me to your heart & cast away the flesh; allow our souls to weave in the throes of passion as our bodies mix into one; slow-motion ecstasy
A longing deep inside, the locked chambers of my soul to exotic places beyond our imaginations; you sneak into my heart to fulfill my every fantasy
Feed me the lullabies you paint on your canvas; orgiastic symphony we conduct in cascading tides; trembles throughout our bodies when our fluids mix
Let me paint upon your heart a ballet of our duet; the crescendo palette of my tide drown you in the spirit of our lyrics
Your ripe fruit quivers tenderly while our union completes; take my hands and let me be yours
Hold my sated body that tremors from the wake; a union of our souls ensnare a bond secure
~
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
The belated summer sky is alive
with a D r a g o n f l y ballet
Beneath,.. the rain parched sod
lay sullied, cracked open
by an unsated thirstiness
awaiting the painted autumn days
and the cleansing rain's renewal
A lace-winged hatch rises skyward
— meandering airborne —
drifting upwards like a burst of dust
dissipating in an invisible cloud
of eventide's silent breath
Darting shadows hover
above a seeker's curiosity
just this side the
softening sunset backdrop
A synthesis of fluid motion
– darting kinesis –
swift agile fliers
steal away over the thirsty pond;
their mesmerizing beauty enchants
as the dimming dusk falls silent —-
embellishing the unrelenting ending
another summer's
imminent curtain call;
reminding how inexorable-time
is only a contrived human notion,
a recurring extrapolation
of passing seasons
Heightening awareness:
how we too are only
passing through these
unholdable moments
coming to know
we cannot stop
how life unfolds
The raindrops will quench
the pond's aching thirst
again one fall someday...
— hereafter —
there will be another
beauty of dragonflies
some other eyes will see
preying on another burgeoning
gossamer-winged hatch
and
another beckoning autumn
when the dragonflies hover
below the gazing totems
in the treetops
Jesse Stillwater ... September 2018 .
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
When I was little my mother put me in several ballet classes in hopes to bring some grace to my stumbling gait.
I grew up walking on eggshells, wobbling to keep my balance on a tightrope that never really ended.
My instructor pinched my thighs and shook her bony finger at me every tuesday and thursday for three and a half years.
4 am, I'm still tiptoeing around the creaks in the stairs as if anyone would notice an empty bed.
This Christmas I came across the broken reminents of the ballerina ornaments my younger sister used to play with.
I never did master the delicate posture I was expected to adopt. My feet fell a bit too heavy, I suppose, on the ice tonight.
I'm not cold anymore, just exhausted from attempting to balance the wrong things for too long.
My life is flashing before my eyes, but all I see is a younger version of myself practicing Grand Battements on thin ice while everyone slept.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
Blonde hair, tight tanned body
Not usually my type but
You stir something in me down there.
You smile shyly,
Girl, you are going to get us into more trouble.
You don't seem to need much coaxing.
Down slides the red cocktail dress,
Your toned body freed.
Black lace ******* shielding heaven.
Soft lips on mine, feels so good
Supple ******* in the palm of my hand,
Pinching ***** ******* a specialty of mine.
Feeling you tremble underneath me
Floods my cup,
I cannot wait to taste you.
I feel your fingers slide
between my thighs,
As our tongues do ballet.
Going to gain our membership
to the sisterhood now.
Wet knuckle status.
We are top to toe,
Better access.
I am starving for you.
It wont take us long to reach Nirvana,
I get it now,
I would have burnt my bra if I ever wore one.
Your ****** and my mouth are a perfect match
I do not usually swing this way
but am honored to dip my toe in your pool.
Crying out you pull away.
That's not how I work,
You will leave complete or not at all
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
A graceful water weaving dolphin
swirls wakes of gentle waves -
a white, silver blue phantom
shimmering in the noonday sun.
Piercing the surface,
she dances an aquatic ballet
of corkscrew pirouettes
and majestic somersaults.
Diving beneath the spray
she churns her engine upward -
soaring through the flaming hoop
to the "oohs" and applause
of a throng of short-sleeved hominids
bleachered beyond the rails.
Plunging into quiet depths,
she lingers for a moment
perhaps to recall the fresh sea air
and the borderless waters
in the golden days before the ships came.
January, 2007
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
To the girl who will one day take my last name
I want to tell you that you look beautiful,
Beautiful like in the way the summer sun bends around the north pole because it refuses to set its constant and lasting
Just like the way my heart jumped the moment i saw you for the first time and it has refused to come down
Everytime since, when i see you, although i have never been much of a dreamer, i daydream about all the things i want to do to you like...
Make you smile... or blush
So that my daydreams will have the perfect backdrop of love to memorize your every freckle, and then i want to drink the smile i put on your face beause i know it is the only thing that can quench my thirst
I want to tell you that I want to learn ballet, just so i can catch you everytime you jump and make sure that ill never let you fall... unless it's for me...
I want to learn to draw
Because I want to draw my way into your life, van gogh my way into your past present and future, i want to spend my whole life with you, and on your dying day i want to roundhouse kick death for even thinking of taking you away from me
But most of all i want to make you... happy
Happy in a way that is unexplainable
Like why do birds suddenly appear everytime you are near
It would be to easy to say that just like me they long to be close to you
And i want it to be unexpected like when you fall asleep after a long day
Slowely at first and then it engulfs you completely
I want to tell you that I want you to be able to feel the sunlights warm caress even on the darkest of days
And on days when you can't see the stars in the night sky
I will cut stars out of my paper heart
Even though they always seem to rip when held in hands that aren't careful enough
and then I want to hang them from your ceiling
So you will always have something beautiful to look at
And if you would just notice me I promise that I can love you like that...
But instead when I finally noticed that you caught me staring at you about 15 minutes ago... I opened my mouth and instead of all the soliloquies that dance through my head whenever you saunter into a room all that came out was hi.....
I think it was a good start.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Like bladed birds of steel they glide and wing,
Across the ice without any dismay,
Fearing no hard body check or cold swing.
They circle the net in frozen ballet,
Flitting about like puck-handling mice,
Tenacity drips from each ounce of their play.
They dazzle with grace all over the ice,
With a jump, a spin, and a pirouette,
Always ready to pay a high price.
They give it all ‘till they’re soaked through with sweat.
We watch with joy from our perch high above.
Our yells, their chirping—it’s quite a duet!
These men change the game with the drop of a glove,
And so, bloodthirsty, we give them our love.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
Like a gazelle she ballets with gracefulness
Like a ballerina
Dancing to Dance of the Little Swans
With beauty and grace
Oh let me see thy fair face,
Sweet sister of mine
Let me watch you ballet gracefully
Through woods, fields, and meadows
She sleeps soundly in a bed of ferns
Oh sweet sister of mine
With the most prettiest satin wings you ever saw
And a pretty pink flowing gown
And soft pale pink ballet slippers
With the most pristine pink ribbons
Tied around her delicate ankles
She ballets, Oh sister of mine
With a crown of baby rosebuds on her
Head
And rosettes on her gown
She dances with delight, Oh, fair sister of mine
She dances even more beautifully
And gracefully
Than the yellow sunflowers
Of gold that waltz in fields and meadows
Dance for me, Oh fair sister of mine
Dance to me on hills of sublime green
Dance, Oh, beautiful sister of mine
Ballet for me gracefully like the
Lotus ballets upon the sapphire lake
Ballet Oh, sweetest sister of mine
Waltz for me in a field of dancing flowers
Waltz for me, Oh, dear sister of mine
I love you, oh, graceful sister of mine
~Marian~
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way
a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky
not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car
you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke
and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture
except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair
and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share
you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature
mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber
you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher
stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover
engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care
barely there g-string thin cotton underwear
nothing loud to upset your understated figure
slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière
sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair
with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr
your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A'
nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light
yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night
born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein
containing so much love without clutter in your frame
a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire
flutters in your eyes with minimal flare
but deep desire
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Her ballet shoes still hang
outside my bedroom door.
I see them every morning,
before my work at the store.
As my car cuts and cruises,
through the country's autumn streets,
My mind slowly wanders
to a harsh, wooden seat.
The judge's decision was irrevocable,
my wife left with everything.
I last saw her ride a taxi, tossing
to the sewers, our wedding ring.
Work is always such a challenge
when my customers just stare.
They know how harsh it was,
but they don't really care.
The judge's decision was irrevocable,
my wife left with everything.
She even took our daughter,
that precious little thing.
As my car cuts and cruises,
through the country's autumn streets,
My mind slowly wanders
to my daughter's little feet
Her ballet shoes still hang
outside my bedroom door.
They once were used for dancing,
but not anymore.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
A point of a toe, a stretch of your hand.
romancing and twirling, you leap and then land
A beautiful musical, you dance like a doll.
Holding your posture, you don't ever fall.
Beautiful costumes, you look like a queen.
This is the most Amazing ballet I've seen.
Hold your head high as you curtsy and bow.
You were amazing! They love you now.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
Crawl to me on all fours, and fix me with those eyes.
Gleaming ivory in the pale darkness.
Suitored to alien mires, foreign environments of crawling dust and spires of simplistic grace.
That we move into.
That we move into as finger pads touch skin and lips and wet tongue tips that grace the very edge of taste itself.
The sonata of flesh has begun as we begin this symbiotic ballet that signifies the end, the start, but not the middle of our burning tryst.
which burns brightly in summer night heat, washing down the walls separating me from you and you from yourself.
Fix me with those eyes once more,
tilt the timer; make the moments slow
And the gas lit beam dance and grow
to our scaly sonata of flesh.
Played without violin
or cello
or trumpet noise
or flute.
But with arms,
and lips
and hair
and bust
and drums.
There are always drums; beating on through the night,
beating their primal rhythm as you crawl towards me,
on all fours, in that oroborus of lust;
symbiotic with itself,
reflecting off itself;
encased in itself.
Crawl to me on all fours
Crawl to me -
And taste of my being.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 10:46 PM UTC
#(a travelogue)
He stared down through
the unbroken silence
lapping the shoreline
Water skippers dart around
the rocks and windfall driftwood
settled juxtaposed in cattail reeds
and emerging broadleaf sprouts
A petrified heartwood timber
lie fallow waiting bare barked,
hushed like a pining lover’s
timeworn love seat,
rubbed smooth as
the crystalline waters
of half-moon lake
Lingering for a while ―
like a hidden stalker,
a perched wildcat waiting
for the full moon’s
swooning spell to saturate
the thickening dusk quietude;
arousing the urgent
call of the wild —
exhaled from the held breath
of the wilderness nocturne
on half-moon lake
The stillness was scattered
with the soft downy hairs
of the sleeping cattails, and
the newly shed catkins
a spring gust bestrewed
from a tall resin birch tree
nigh the Sitka willows
He sat quietly ...
time out of mind ―
tossing his eyes up into the sky;
taking the time to read the stars ―
catching them each again
as they fell into his gentle hands,
to show him who he was
Seeing their sparkly tracers
trail-out above the cattails,
from a distance
they resembled falling stars
unable to perceive their own renaissance ―
plashing lightly upon the still-water
on half-moon lake
A lone shadow glides stealthily
near mid-tarn,.. swimming
enchantingly with the grace
of a blackswan
Appearing to glance shoreward
at the glowing low stars
rise and fall, as his eyes
twinkled skyward over
the moonlit lagoon ―
heavenward of its moonlit ballet;
the lone sleek dark shadow
slipping through
a faint circular ripple
stirring the smooth as glass waters ―
disappearing like a fleeting moment
waning deep aneath
a subtle silent wake.
When all the clear lines blurred,
he knew it had been so long ...
but hearken !
… an interceding
long drawn out wail
echoed a feral ache
across the stillness,
breaking the silence ―
as the shadow reappeared;
his tears surrendered
to the undulating call of the wild;
he felt the spirit of the sole Loon,
as black and white
as the moonlit night,
stir deeply in his wanting heart ―
lay bare the silence
in lengthy yodeled psalms
to the god of the moon
Diving down deep yet again,
keeping the light he’d been given,
vanishing into the lifespring
sanctuary of half-moon lake
harlon rivers ... May 2018
travelogue: 4 of some more
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
i want to play a piano
i want to feel my fingers slide down the keys
i want to swirl myself in melodies no one’s ever heard
i want to engulf myself in harmonies
angels sing their children to sleep
i want my fingers to dance on black keys
like ballet dancers twirling their tiptoes
i want to feel like satin unwinding
like champagne bubbling
i want to dance in the moonlight
with nothing but a grand piano
and my fingers
nimbly picking each key
ever so softly
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 10:23 PM UTC
It's a dance
It really is
Skip and prance
Lifelong practice
Loop of songs
Never ending
Of various genres
Life is playing
There's the spotlight
World is awaiting
Pressure of eyes
Silently watching
Take your place
Assume your position
Execute with finesse
And flawless precision
Spin your pirouettes
Don't get dizzy
Maintain your poise
In this revelry
Along comes a partner
Present as a duo
The game now altered
From when you were solo
Two bodies now
Move in unison
Reciprocate and reply
Through steps made in heaven
Flighty feet
Intertwined bodies limbre
Sweet little performance
Elapsing into forever
With grace of ballet
Each other you'd catch
Intimate display
Think you've found your match
There'll come such time
Both will not be in sync
Episodes of missteps
Push you to the brink
Alone again
Or switch of partners
Find solace in groups
Still dancing for answers
Dancing with others
Much you can learn
From hip hop to the waltz
Together or in turn
Try to adapt
To different styles
Soak up all you can
May take a while
I've danced all my life
Can't say that I've mastered
Fair share of jeers
And accolades I've garnered
Always clumsy
Exceedingly awkward
Tripping and falling
Barely proceeding forward
It's just this dance
One with syncopated beats
It's just this prance
That my gait can't meet
It's just this stance
I often use as retreat
I realised in a glance
That I have...but
two left feet
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
I like playing with words
Sometimes drinking coffee
I imagine I'm a ballerina drawing swords
To make my mind flee -
I need no drugs
But the little man in my coffee cup shrugs,
He whispers
'try some sativa'
I am stubborn
I pick him by his toes
And feed him to the bugs
'Viva!
The independent mind!' Says Shiva!
I'm now a samurai...
doing ballet moves.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 1:12 AM UTC
A body still from excitement
Head to the sky, waiting
A whole frosted dance is about to appear
Earth’s colossal yet gentle hands grab the sun
And turn off the gleaming lights
Darkness
Restful darkness
The ample wind covers the area
Like an invisible curtain of chilled silk
Then a moment of calm
Everything is still
As if a single picture was taken
Vibrant silver angels in their white cotton
Fall from endless stage in the sky
Embodying the frozen air
Thrusting their ****** dance
As they float towards the ground
These suggestive pale dancers
Land on your still excited body
Using it as their new birthed platform
They use their sensual ballet
To send ice cold stings through your bones
To bring a ****** tingle to your mind
Until your heart ******* to a perky smile.
This is called the seductive winter dance
Able to make your mouth gleam
And your soul tickle
Embrace the frigid sensation
As you give birth to your inner thrill
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
Never will I be covered in tattoos
My legs and toes shall forever stay bruised.
I’ll never paint or carry a tune
Forever and ever, I’ll wear a tutu.
I won’t dye my hair pink or blue
My piercings will stay as the simple two
Nails cut short and hair in a bun
In ballet, this must be done.
Pink tights by the mound
Bobby pins all around
Leotards on the floor
Pointe shoes by the door.
Toes taped so tightly
Smiling big and brightly
Red lipstick adding to her beauty
The dancer moves so smoothly.
Turned out from my hips
No words coming from my lips
I dance sweetly to the sound
Ooh ballet, to you, I am bound.
Full of grace, never haste
Filling perfectly my costume of lace
Ever so sweet, my dancing feet
Step after step, I repeat and repeat.
Obtaining perfection is my key
It’s what I strive for, it’s all that defines me
Pushing harder and harder to reach my goal
It’s what I live for, ballet is my soul.
My toes may bleed
And my knees, grow weak
But I’ll never stop dancing…
Not until I reach my peak.
Pirouette, Pirouette
Dancer’s silhouette
Practicing at dusk
Dedication is a must.
Stretching my limbs
Choreographing on a whim
Alway aiming to be stronger
To hold my arabesque longer.
When I do finally reach that triple pirouette
and all is done and all is set
I put myself back into class
Aiming for a fourth, to be better than the last.
This is the life of a dancer en point
Risking the health of her feet, legs and joints
Just for that one perfect moment on stage
Where the ballerina stands tall and all are amazed.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
The ballerina's pirouette:
This is the little triolet.
Within a faëry scene and set
The ballerinas pirouette
To a limpid midnight minuet
In Thumbelina-esque ballet.
The ballerina's pirouette:
This is the little triolet.
*
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
I slip my tender toes into your familiar bind,
your pink laces twist up my legs
and animate me.
En pointe, my toes are perched upon their boxes,
and your silken arms embrace my ankles
as if I walk on nothing.
Fuetes swing you around and I am a circus ride,
turned into painted porcelain,
a spinning doll.
I spend months with you, scuffing your soles, tearing your cloth,
burning your laces, stretching your lips.
We become old.
One day they will put us both in a tiny fabric box,
only to spin when it opens, only to dance
at the soft tinkling of a bell.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 3:49 PM UTC
The ballerina rises off her feet to stand en pointé.
Sparkles from her white costume shimmering
From the bright lights focused on her.
She elongates her arms into the air, bending her small wrists
And the tips of her delicate fingers lightly touch each other.
She glances at the crowd, looking for him
Even though she knows he is not there.
The long legs of this ballerina are linked, chained together.
And as she hears the music begin to play,
This ballerina slightly tilts her head and turns.
She does not blame him for leaving,
For this ballerina knows she drove him mad.
And onstage she chained her legs tighter and turned faster,
Eyelids fluttered shut, head tilted downward for a brief moment.
Obsession to the point of perfection.
He would never understand, which she always knew.
She had to be perfect.
Her head spinning and facing forward, this ballerina turned faster.
Drunken from Dom Pérignon and love along the coast of La Seine.
Allongé, this ballerina reached further and
Tourné plus vite sur ses pointes.
*Kisses filled with wonder outside the Place des Arts de Montréal,
Yet still she had to be perfect.
Faster with every chaîne tour; never stopping, wishing he could stay.*
She began to slow with every turn
As the ballet dancers flooded the stage.
White sparkles glistening everywhere,
The Prince made his presence known.
The tears she shed one night on the Pont Marie bridge as he walked way.
This ballerina slowed until she no longer turned, slowly lowering her arms,
One hand gently and softly grazing her face.
She stood in front of two rows of ballet dancers, searching for a face
That she knew would not be there.
Allongé, she bent her wrists where the tips of her fingers lightly touched
Before lowering her arms until they were in front of her.
She danced across the stage towards her Prince
Where he waited, arms outstretched, the ballet dancers facing him.
This ballerina turned once more before falling back into the arms of her Prince.
“I’m perfect.”
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay
I should speak what’s on my mind
And yet you censor what I say
Conformists following their set way
Unabashedly blind
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay
Thoughts leaping through my head like a ballet
In an elaborate design
And yet you censor what I say
Follow the script “Hello” “Good day”
Nothing new and all will be fine
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay
My words are clay
Moldable, unconfined
And yet you censor what I say
This world goes by in shades of gray
My rainbow is maligned
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay
A̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶e̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶e̶n̶s̶o̶r̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶a̶y̶
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
little missy mouse she just long to be a little ballerina
for all the world to see'
she took a trip to russia far across the sea
to become a dancer with a ballet company.
she packed up her tutu and tiara too
to be a ballet dancer and make her dreams come true.
she praticed all her moves and spiining on her feet
trained every single day till her training was complete
now her time had come to join a company .
and a ballerina now at last would be
she began to dance like she never danced before
little spins and pirouttes the crowd all shouted more
they stood on there feet now a star was she
a famous ballet star just like she longed to be
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
Tim O'Brien had the right idea
about carrying people and ideas;
we all have experiences that live within us
like a stain on our grey matter.
I carry with me every insult hurled at me,
caught by my web of sensitivity;
I lift them onto my shoulders,
my back creaking as I trudge on.
My insecurities are shackles at my ankles,
the chains tangling themselves and chafing my legs;
my knees knock and pop and shake,
my back creaks and groans.
The ghosts and spirits of the self-departed
dance their ethereal ballet about my soul
and howl their eerie opera through the night,
begging for forgiveness and understanding.
The heaviness of the future rests
inside the caverns of my cranium,
latching on to my thoughts
and chipping at my hopes.
Past loves plague our emotions
and rest in the deepest corners of our hearts,
reminding us of who we once were
and asking us what could have been.
A cloud of sadness condenses in my body,
little drops of dejection slide down my lungs.
My chest constricts and grows heavy
and pointlessly hopes to see the sun.
Everyone together carries the weight of the world,
but I'm not sure what is heavier:
the mass of the planet,
or the things its people carry.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC