this is the feeling of ghosting into rooms
watching them read your memoirs
slow burns coals to old news
swallowing loosely fluming cooled fumes
yelling “stop stop your interpretation’s skewed”

you didn’t get the bruise
you didn’t eat the apple
wish i could remove all the words
and ways in which we could
describe the truth. the sapling

but they do not hear you
grappling but slackening
traveling across the map
to watch it all unraveling
picasso pats you on the back
this is static, your hair only glows
in through window cracks
don’t have it

keratin, bear the din, see through
transient setience, the void speaks to
this is the illusion
you cared for
there’s no taking it back
you’re where you always were
infinite lines don’t
point towards the earth

this is lock jaw with no key
when you take all the attachments in your life
and smash them on the ground
without heed to the deepest reaches
the only way your heart beats
is in tune to the way the rain breathes
watch it wash away and exhale out
this is drowning in a sea
and being found face down in a puddle
laughed at on the sidewalk

he kicks you in
you don’t care but you did
this time you saw it coming
band aids are pointless

"you wanted to be everything"
you still cannot swim
and they’ve got it all wrong
she just wants to be nothing
but they say that’s negative
at least it’s something

this is me being realistic
this dream is ******* ballistic
and we find ourselves transistic
because were or weren’t we meant
to love and live through this
but this time it was you
you ruined the script

Strike a match
A small fire blooms
Feebly lighting
These sacred rooms

Approach the shrine
Delicately handle
Touch the fire
Light the candle

On the altar
Its flame at first
Begins to falter
Then catches as it goes........

Burning and churning
Bouncing and flouncing
Dancing and prancing
Quaking and shaking
Glowing and flowing
Zooming and fluming
Swaying and playing
Shimmering and glimmering
Flickering and wickering
Wiggling and jiggling
Glittering and flittering
Flowering and towering
Brightening and lightening

Then........
Fluttering and sputtering and guttering
As a gust from the window
Makes the flame go
Sparkening then darkening
Smoking and choking

The candle's gone out
Leaving only a spark
Concentration in doubt
Rooms swallowed in dark

Meditation mind
Gone with the wind

Here's my passowrd;

Dialect of the language of love
Spiritually digital connection

Ignoring is games played
Or maybe they have food in their mouths
Or talking to their mother

Or they say were they aren't.

Pouring rain in a dry street
Cresote turning and airing
Color blooms but always dies and goes back to grey dustclouds fluming in the distance while the sun is blocked
by a glowing resisteance of dust and agricultural waste and rust

They told you a lie

It is said money is not important but love is Balderdash! when you are old you need money as never before,

your house is falling down and you can't do anything about it because you are too poor to get a builder.

Sitting on a settee hand in hand watching dripping, dank walls while watching a white & black TV fluming in a dank corner,

and you will regret money spent on frivolities when young

And lacking the talent needed to make money when you could and never mind about

the memory of women you loved most of them got on married rich, powerful men who died and left them with money

enough to paint the house and fix those pesky water leaks