"crane" poems
There’s a silverback haze
on the shallow face
of the Rockwell Ridge
folded brow
puzzled chin
and dark hollow eyes
keeping watch
over the lilies
and crane flies
and will of the wisp
Rust brown ravens
and fisher kings
delight
in the reeds off north bend
(chased by the terraced streams!)
youth blades engrain
on the favoured
and historic
Banka Memorial
Mustard
and pumpkin skies
are clipped
by a call from
the resident loon
the sounds of Buddha Bar
piercing the silence
and shaping the afternoon chord
It’s a time to make way (stream side)
seems the anuran are courting
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
Summer heat summer sweet
With a wealthy nature, rich pheromones erupt
Birds n tha bees escape the trees
Please don't plant your seeds
But throw the leaves
Up n up
To get down and drop
Where the dirt pops
Ken keseys ashes
Edible umbrellas turn rainy days on their head spinning pupils wide void of discontentment
Fairies fly off clouds and stars fall at day
Impossible, feelings are blown in and out of proportion to fit a screen thats too small
Tough love
Tough life
Slick surface don't let me fall off the boat as it rocks
Swisher wraps over the curves
Got me feelin lucky like a charm
Cheef all day got me smellin dank as a Rastafarian Only stoppin to sip my Captain Morgans moonshine
Till we hit the caribbean
Then Jack's got me headin for tides end
Early
Flush the bile outta your system
And spiral out of controls iron hand
**** responsibility, Apathy rules all.
Paper crane ******* get all superficial but yellow bones make my brain go fuzzy in smokey ***
In n out, fast n slow
Nicotine dominates
My senses are lost at Molly
That ***** finger ****** my life
Made me *** every time
This unhealthy relation in action doesn't phase me yet, I'm too young to think that far
I mean
What do you expect?
A Teens crowded perceptions can be judged like a bums intentions.
Peace my brotha
Dandy danny says theres a way out
-side with the rap culture
Shots of rebellion pour through the cracks we each fill
The glass
Is too cracked to be see-through
West coast vibes kick back lax attitude I carry on my shoulders
Forever green is my state
Wash that **** off your lawn crack *** haters I'll spray paint your ***
Equality's the goal
**** race
**** sexuality
I see soul
Open up
Show me your beat
I'll count bars as we spit elicited slurs drizzled to drops leaving the cops to stop us
Quit
Obeyin the brand
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Trickshotting on Highrise
On the Crane
Billed that ************
in the mane
Go on fazeclan
new recruit
holy **** man
FaZe Fruit
That's me!
How could that come to be
Im in faze now
******* trickshot me now
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Late night. Footsteps.
Crane necks and girders.
Fog lifts. The wind cries.
Steel bones in moonlight
I'm out
so late now
and it's Sunday night and Summer's ending
soon.
I'm aging
with questions
fermenting in my mouth
ignored for years
Fenced off. Unfinished
project shelved and waiting
for next Spring.
Cool night eclipsing
years spent indexing,
answers mislaid and
blueprints unrolling
Components rusting,
crane necks and girders.
Steel bones in moonlight.
Tight lipped and staring.
Fall comes
construction
halts now and the walls stand half
complete
And outside
the chain link
shrugging off the cold and
still wondering when
Step through unfinished
building. Get home. Shelved
until next Spring.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
We killed
Hart Crane
Though he leapt
To his death
A poet’s plan
Or perhaps a whim
We hold the blame
We killed Freddie Mercury
And stopped the music
The callous political games
Blocked possible gains
In a needed cure
We killed Harvey Milk
We were the bullets
And the metal frame
Held the assassin’s hand
We hold the shame
We killed
The blond burnt boy
Encouraging
The hate
We killed the strung up
Beautiful boys
The hung up
Beaten up
Broken hearted
Brothers and sons
We are the progenitors
Of the violence
Through action
And more often than not
Through inaction
Maybe a little more guilt
Would serve us well
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
there, now -
Fukushima sakura unfold
in perfect pink oblivion.
here, now -
wind tears a madman's
origami from umbrellas
wire crane's feet
curl to the sky.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 7:37 AM UTC
You are the town and we are the clock.
We are the guardians of the gate in the rock.
The Two.
On your left and on your right
In the day and in the night,
We are watching you.
Wiser not to ask just what has occurred
To them who disobeyed our word;
To those
We were the whirlpool, we were the reef,
We were the formal nightmare, grief
And the unlucky rose.
Climb up the crane, learn the sailor's words
When the ships from the islands laden with birds
Come in.
Tell your stories of fishing and other men's wives:
The expansive moments of constricted lives
In the lighted inn.
But do not imagine we do not know
Nor that what you hide with such care won't show
At a glance.
Nothing is done, nothing is said,
But don't make the mistake of believing us dead:
I shouldn't dance.
We're afraid in that case you'll have a fall.
We've been watching you over the garden wall
For hours.
The sky is darkening like a stain,
Something is going to fall like rain
And it won't be flowers.
When the green field comes off like a lid
Revealing what was much better hid:
Unpleasant.
And look, behind you without a sound
The woods have come up and are standing round
In deadly crescent.
The bolt is sliding in its groove,
Outside the window is the black removers' van.
And now with sudden swift emergence
Come the woman in dark glasses and humpbacked surgeons
And the scissors man.
This might happen any day
So be careful what you say
Or do.
Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock,
Trim the garden, wind the clock,
Remember the Two.
6.7k
the white crane
with paper wings
like paper planes
sails up above
and down
the muddy milky brown
it changes flight
goes out of sight
but its peace
will never leave me
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
and there…harold dreamt,
he dreamed of a boat,
one with a brown bottom,
and a rusty green rutter,
and it spun
and it spun,
the siem reap river,
of sunkissed toffee color,
he sailed on and on,
and stared at his brother,
he looked up above from the boat,
straight up at the hot steamy sun,
and his large white eyes,
stared up at a bird,
it was white and small,
with slender yellow legs,
that held a grace,
unlike any other
the crane flew in one circle above his head,
harold watched as it plummeted to the brown water below,
and at the last moment of its decent,
it shot up and across his horizon,
until it vanished
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
I was the paper crane that you made. What once kept your interest. You thought that I was beautiful, a work of art.
But now you've disposed me like all the other crap that's useless to you now.
*******
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
And I always find, yeah, I always find something wrong
You been putting up with my **** just way too long
I'm so gifted at finding what I don't like the most
So I think it's time for us to have a toast
Let's have a toast for the **********
Let's have a toast for the ********
Let's have a toast for the scumbags
Every one of them that I know
Let's have a toast for the jerk-offs
That'll never take work off
Baby, I got a plan
Run away fast as you can
[Verse 1: Kanye West]
She find pictures in my e-mail
I sent this ***** a picture of my ****
I don't know what it is with females
But I'm not too good with that ****
See, I could have me a good girl
And still be addicted to them hoodrats
And I just blame everything on you
At least you know that's what I'm good at
[Hook]
[Bridge]
Run away from me, baby, run away
Run away from me, baby, run away
It's about to get crazy, why can't she just, run away?
Baby, I got a plan, run away fast as you can
[Verse 2 - Pusha T]
24/7, 365, ***** stays on my mind
I-I-I-I did it, all right, all right, I admit it
Now pick your next move, you could leave or live wit' it
Ichabod Crane with that ************* top off
Split and go where? Back to wearing knockoffs, haha
Knock it off, Neiman's, shop it off
Let's talk over mai tais, waitress, top it off
Hoes like vultures, wanna fly in your Freddy loafers
You can't blame 'em, they ain't never seen Versace sofas
Every bag, every blouse, every bracelet
Comes with a price tag, baby, face it
You should leave if you can't accept the basics
Plenty hoes in the balla-nigga matrix
Invisibly set, the Rolex is faceless
I'm just young, rich, and tasteless
P!
[Verse 3: Kanye West]
Never was much of a romantic
I could never take the intimacy
And I know I did damage
Cause the look in your eyes is killing me
I guess you are at an advantage
Cause you can blame me for everything
And I don't know how I'mma manage
If one day you just up and leave
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
I.
and I galumphed
to the rock salt
shore and
collapsed
waiting for
you
to run over
the dune’s
slope
II.
it had only been
a few minutes
but I could see
the rhino cloud
coming
full
steam
and spitting
fire
if only I had
the strength
but you stole that
from me
too
III.
the steam was
fresh against
my cracked
skin
I could feel the
salt melt off
into the
sand
crane swinging
jaws engulfing
my twisted
body
IV.
I did not find you
inside
only an
unbreakable bottle
with an
unreachable
note and a skeleton
with rings
on its
fingers
V.
my last dreams
were ones
of us
on a mountain
hot air balloon
shadow
specked against
the sunset
everything was so
big
the wind blew
your hair
everywhere
as I drank
in the
storm
this was the last
time I remembered
smiling
VI.
black expanse
with a little
white dot
popping from
corner to
corner
life always played games
with me
death was no
different
VII.
this creature
feared you
this creature
was a long visit
with fire burning
and love notes
this creature was
spit out by
your mouth
this creature
was loud by
your breath
this creature
spackled and
magnetized
never reborn
boat stench and
teeth
mashed
and mashed
again
raining on
your body as
the desert breaks from
its last
drought
VIII.
we will meet
again
I’m sure of
it.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
WASHINGTON IRVING WROTE A NOVEL
ABOUT ICHABOD CRANE
LITTLE SLEEPY HOLLOW
WILL NEVER BE THE SAME
LITTLE SLEEPY HOLLOW WAS CURSED
BY A HORSEMAN MOST DREAD
HE WAS RIDING IN SLEEPY HOLLOW
IN SEARCH OF HIS HEAD
THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN WAS
IN THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR
SO FOR HIM SEARCHING FOR HIS HEAD
WAS NEVER A CHORE
ICHABOD CRANE WAS
A TEACHER MOST STRICT
WEATHER THE GHOST STORIES WERE TRUE
WHO COULD EVER PREDICT
ICHABOD TEACHES THE CHILDREN
OF FARMERS IN THE VILLAGE
BUT ITS THE YOUNG GIRLS OF FARMERS
HE SECRETLY WANTS TOO PILLAGE
KATRINA VAN TASSEL A
BEAUTIFUL YOUNG STUDENT
ICHABOD FALLS IN LOVE WITH HER
BUT WAS IT VERY PRUDENT
HE WAS INVITED TO THE TASSELS
FOR A PARTY MOST RARE
KATRINA AT THE PARTY
DISMISSES HIS WITHOUT CARE
ICHABOD LEAVES THAT NIGHT
ON HIS HORSE HE RIDES
ITS AN EERILY DARK PATH
HIS HORSE DOSE STRIDE
ICHABOD IS SCARED AND SEES
A LARGE DARK MAN
HE YELLS TO THE STRANGER
AS LOUD AS HE CAN
SO ICHABOD RIDES SCARED AND FAST
BUT ALONG SIDE COMES THE MAN
NOT WILLING TOO PASS
ICHABOD NOTICES THE RIDER
REALLY HAS NO HEAD
THIS JUST FILLS ICHABOD
WITH THE MOST SINFUL DREAD
ICHABOD AND THE STRANGER
RACE TO THE TOWN CHURCH
FOR THIS IS WHERE THE GHOST STORIES
FIRST CAME TO BIRTH
ICHABOD RACES TO THE BRIDGE
AND NERVOUSLY LOOKS BACK
THE STRANGER HAS DISAPPEARED
OFF THE GHOSTLY TRACK
BUT HE NOTICES THE STRANGER
HIS HEAD HE DOSE HURL
ICHABOD FALLS OF THE HORSE
HIS WORLD IS IN A WHIRL
THE NEXT DAY ICHABOD'S
HORSE FINALLY RETURNS HOME
WHERE IS ICHABOD
WHERE DID HE ROAM
THEY LOOK FOR ICHABOD
AND FIND HOOF PRINTS
AND ICHABOD'S HAT
SO NOW THE FOLKLORE IS BORN
IN SLEEPY HOLLOW THAT'S THAT
" WISDOM IS LIKE MANURE IT'S NO GOOD UNLESS IT'S SPREAD AROUND ENCOURAGING OTHERS TO GROW"
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
sky
sun rise
early morning dawn
cascades upon blanketed lawn
decorative leaves poke through snow
strong reminder that nothing can grow
including the daisy and every other flower
nights become longer, days shorter by the hour
and flying to the south robin, crane and hummingbird
a wolves forlorn howl does not go unheard
nor does that of the snowy owl
a north wind itself does howl
a weathered husk does blow
dancing across the snow
a lonely endeavor
but forever
hopeful
(C) Shawn White Eagle
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
A couple holding hands, huddled together
A rusty crane arm reaching the stars
Smell of salt air mixed with seaweed
Shades of red, and orange mingle
With the glistening water as the sun sets
Wooden bench perched on a bank,
Tiny plaque memory of two souls
Spending moments here of evenings past
Overlooking fishing boats tethered,
An ancient weathered harbor wall.
Lazy, full seagulls, flap heavily away
Playful laughter floats, on the air
As children dance too and from
Waves lapping the pebbled beach
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
So many chiefers and not enough Indians
There Yosef go with that ******** again fools can't comprehend
Cuz them weeds they choppin' put all thoughts to end
So come again like ya repeating the same thang
Ghetto Twain rhymes like boomerang leavin' welts on the back of the membrane
My topics ain't meant for population
So if you don't like change the **** station
So fools keep on puffin' and I'm.keep on stuffin'
My minds with nothing knowledge I learned nothing college
But to party and ******** shut and take a hit
Let the dogia explore your deepest mind terrains
Got ya hooked like a crane invoking much pain
Time is suffering people offering up sacrifices
And claiming they just being nice for the right price
They'll sell out they soul for few ounces of gold
So you see what's happening blasting like rocket
Coming for pockets of fake prophets once I'm set I'm a raging bull so ain't no stopppin' it
Then next thing ya know I stare at the floor and the window
My third eyes enlighten
Thinking to myself I gotta go
but I got buzz contact off that fake indo...
Shaking my head looking at these young studs
Laughing at em smokin'them fake budds
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
Stars blinking
Billions of God's eyes
Following one another across
A mostly vacant sky
The Moon smiles
Perhaps this is God's fingernail
growing for days until
It gets clipped
A slippery slope
To crane a neck
Staring out at
The distant explosion
Were these eyes meant to receive such an ancient light?
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
For the sake of some things
That be now no more
I will strew rushes
On my chamber-floor,
I will plant bergamot
At my kitchen-door.
For the sake of dim things
That were once so plain
I will set a barrel
Out to catch the rain,
I will hang an iron ***
On an iron crane.
Many things be dead and gone
That were brave and gay;
For the sake of these things
I will learn to say,
“An it please you, gentle sirs,”
“Alack!” and “Well-a-day!”
3.9k
I think, Lorraine, it was the rain
gently pattering upon my pane
creating rhythm in my sleeping brain
encouraging chaos bordering insane
I blamed it ,Lorraine, on the falling rain.
A vison arose of a windswept plain
saddleless riders in the north of Spain
granting a stranger a sultry dame
standing in the pouring rain…
I think, Lorraine, it was the rain.
Her eyes expressed complete distain
looking at fools pretending to reign
over lands with dragons left un-slain
me, I could only sit and complain
I blamed it, Lorraine, on the falling rain.
I heard a ghost howl in pain
bitten by a rabid Dane
fleeting images of regret and shame
flashed across my face again…
I think, Lorraine, it was the rain.
I blamed it, Lorraine, on the falling rain
the day you told me I was your bane
you wished to see me die alone in pain
with nothing but the falling rain….
I think, Lorraine, it was the rain.
Like the blackest tar running through my vein
the three a.m. creature threw me on a plane
sent me sailing down the next of a Crane
U-turn careening into the oncoming lane
I blamed it, Lorraine, on the falling rain.
When at last our eyes met her dusty mane
created an aura I can’t explain
but enveloped the world in love without shame
giving the people joy without pain
I think, Lorraine, it was the rain.
I think, Lorraine, it was the rain
which fed the stranger on the train
looking to rob the Spanish Main
a thought I considered to be to framed…
I blamed it, Lorraine, on the falling rain.
Left in the twilight listening without restrain
these visions creep into my insomniac brain
as drip after drip crash upon my pane
I think, Lorraine, it was the rain…
I blamed it, Lorraine, on the falling rain.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
I tried folding a paper crane again the other day
and it didn't turn out right
tracing back my folds,
I knew I missed somewhere
unfolding, re-creasing, refolding
just tracing my fingers back
fingers
feeling the paper
and beyond
A three-minute fold
times 10 now
Even if I needed to do other things,
I paid no mind, determined to fold that crane
I had to get this right.
I had to.
Almost there...
As it turns out,
I only missed one step,
--something to do with its wings, I believe...
Amazing how a single step
could be so important.
Stretching its wings now,
the paper crane
soars proudly on my palm...
So beautiful.
In refolding this paper crane,
I hope I never forget...
Amazing how easily things slip from our minds,
but more amazing
is when our hearts Do remember.
We remember,
and then we Do something...
...I have hundreds of paper cranes yet to fold,
it may be taking me far longer
than what I had initially planned...
but yes, you are in my thoughts,
you are in my prayers...
and I shall continue folding these cranes.
...I revel in the thought, for that moment,
when I can send them flying towards the Sun...
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
*You Held Me Tight In Your Arms,
The Night Air Nipping At Our Skin,
Our Breath Clouds Of Warmth,
Mixing Underneath The Stars*
"I Love You," You Said, Your Hands Meandering,
Up And Down My Spine,
Trying To Keep Me Warm,
In The Frosty Octobor Night
*Corn Stalks Gently Grazed Our Jeans,
You Held Me Close,
Perplexing The Lurking Demons,
Warming My Blood,
With Your Lips*
"I Love You Too," I Said Holding Your Shoulders
*You Wrapped Me In Your Arms,
Folding Our Souls Together,
Like An Ormagami Crane,
And You Kissed My Cheek,
Our Frozen Fingers Entwined*
"Don't Ever Leave Me," You Said Lovingly,
As You Burried Your Face Into My Neck,
And Kissed It Lightly
*I Lay My Head On Your Shoulder,
And The Goosebumps On My Skin Faded,
As My Body Enjoyed The Cold*
"I Won't" I Murmered,
*You Stared Into My Eyes,
And Pulled Me Closer,
Our Lips A Millimeter Away,
You Know What I Like*
I Felt Your Breath As You Asked,"What Would You Say If I Asked You To Marry Me?"
*Even Though It Was Only 2 Seconds,
The Space Imbetween That Question,
Felt Like Two Hours,
Honestly I Never Wanted That Moment To End*
"I Would Say Yes, Why?"
*I Could Feel Your Pulse Rise,
And Your Skin Start To Warm*
"Because Someday I'm Going To Ask You, And Give You A Diamond Ring, Almost As Beautiful As You"
*I Smiled
A Reflection To Yours
As We Sat Under
The Yellowish Cresent Moon*
"Then It's A Yes"
*I Laughed
My Annoying Kackly Laugh
The One You Love*
"Can I Kiss You?"
*My Eyebrows Lowered
In Sarcastic Annoyence
But I Giggled*
"Fine"
*As You Kissed Me
I Smiled*
"Please Take My Sweatshirt," You Begged Me
*I Noticed My Shivering Body
The Hairs On My Arms Rose
And My Fingers Felt
As If They Belonged To A Dead Person*
"Okay" I Reluctantly Said
*You Put Your Sweatshirt Over My Shoulders
And As You Cuddled Me Closer
And Kissed My Lips One Last Time
I Opened My Eyes
The Light From The Moon
Streaked Across My Face
Suddenly I Heard You Whisper
Goodnight
As We Stood On My Doorstep
Goodnight I Replied*
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 8:17 PM UTC
THIS is what love is.
banana bubblegum and magnetic poetry
the crickets on my front porch at three in the morning
making origami cranes out of butcher paper
even when I forget whether it's mountain fold or
valley fold and my crane turns out looking like a
seamonkey in a blender
wildflowers!
striped button-down shirts and plastic dinosaurs
singing Juanes at the top of our lungs
(Gah, you know
I can't speak Spanish.)
laughing at the serious parts in movies
having the patience for when
the words don't come out
and I have to stop
and think
(for a very long time)
and half the time it doesn't make sense anyway.
impromptu dance sessions on the side of the road
doors flung open, radio up
chocolate chip pancakes
out-of-town adventures
mailboxes. LOTS.
balcony raves with lots of glowsticks
and let me borrow that top!
just letting me sleeeeeeep
the smell of new pointe shoes
of New Orleans
of bluebonnets
telling me when I look awful (please)
making me eat things that I don't like
SNUGGLEBUNNY TIME
drive-thru people who hate our guts
That's What She Said's.
praising Buddha naked
dysfunctional kites
paying in change at Chicken Express
late night phone conversations
when I sound drunk
(but I'm not,
I'm tired. I just would rather
talk to you
than sleep.)
silence.
cupcakes, uniform closets
not shaving our legs in the winter
shadow puppets, rap songs,
Slumdog Millionaire
making once-in-a-lifetime faces
looks that speak oceans
pecan pralines and symphony orchestras you'll
never play with again but for that night
you're family
and you'll never forget it.
matches (aren't always for candles)
thousands upon thousands of candids
and the not-so-candids
saving kisses in your pocket for later
Neverland, Disneyland, cats
yellow dresses and stage make-up
watermelon Jolly Ranchers
saying my name like it's wrapped in blankets
and knowing that
even though I don't say it
as much as I should:
I do.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:51 PM UTC
*hey, before kung fu fighting
was kung fu ***
emperors practiced it and
would have lived to be Immortals
if not for the darned traitors and assassins*
Crane sees Phoenix
and in Plum Tree Garden of Scents
Plum Tree Arms
Encircle Double Mountains;
Pine Reaches for the Skies
Drunken Monkey Jumps
and Pheasant Sings
and White Pearl Slips;
Dogs Unite and Clouds Merge
Tiger Bites and Lion Roars
Grand Dragon Withholds
Jade Gate Opens
Jade Stem enters
Wild Boars stampede
and Cherry Blossoms Fall
Drunken Monkey Sleeps
White Pearl Smiles
Drunken Monkey Awakes
and Blue Pearl Awaits -
and again Serpent on Rock hisses;
Wheels of Legs Rotate
*hey, before kung fu fighting
was kung fu ***
emperors practiced it and
would have lived to be Immortals
if not for the darned traitors and assassins*
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 4:26 AM UTC
Palm leaves stretching
out their
arms
to reach a sea-blue
sky
I relate to reaching
up
and trying to
get high
Head back like
a swan or
crane,
I'm done being
complacent
I am ready to
be bigger now
I'm running out of
patience.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
It happens imperceptibly
but you know it
when it’s in full effect –
Two’s company
three’s crowd.
It’s not
anyone’s fault,
not something
anyone decides,
just how it goes
sometimes.
Conversation
becomes
more and more
personal,
until it is clear:
You are not supposed to be here.
So you do
what you are good at doing.
You disappear.
-
See, disappearing?
You have it down
to a science.
Talk less and less
and then not at all.
Stare off into space,
perhaps fidget from time to time,
make small movements
to show that you
have not quite
turned to stone.
Take a while to leave.
It can’t be sudden -
you wouldn’t want to draw attention
to yourself.
[It’s awkward for everyone involved.]
Finally,
when you think you just
can’t
bear it,
get up to go to the bathroom
and never come back.
It’s easier than you think.
-
They will look for and address you
eventually:
*oh good night, are you okay, you’re so quiet,
you should have said something, I’m sorry, sorry,
sorry.*
The usual.
You will reassure them
when the time comes,
fold up your feelings
into a little origami crane
that you wish could just
fly away.
But for now
you can sit safely
in your invisibility.
-
You told your friend group earlier
that sometimes you thought
there was no point calling yourself
gay
because you just hated everyone.
It makes everyone laugh,
and even you find that you’re amused,
but
you don’t know if they heard
the hurt, the bitterness, the honesty of that statement
buried within your voice.
-
You watch
the way your two friends (with benefits)
are affectionate with each other,
the way one puts her head
in the other’s lap,
the way they play with each other’s hair
small kisses on small places,
the way they do these things
and see only each other,
as if all of this
is only obvious
to them.
It’s sweet.
You try to rouse yourself into
more feeling:
jealousy,
sadness,
hopefulness,
anything intense, but
everything boils down to
the same nothingness.
This is simply
another thing you
can’t/won’t/don’t have
[pick any verb, they’re all true].
-
And this is what
your life is:
trying to find ways
to make everything disappear.
Feelings – gone.
Desires – gone.
Expectations – gone.
Hopes – gone.
Communication – gone.
-
And this is what your life is:
Succeeding.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC