"renaissanced" poems
this poem is about Me
Me me me
Me with a gun on my tongue
Me and my g.o.o.o.o.o.o.lden bullets
aimed at ... ?
Me, blowing bubbles in my mind
not caring what the plan is
Me, imperfect
Unperfect me
me as Myself incarnate
Renaissanced
rising from a shell
Thoughts
creeping up the bone
Me me me
my meat
Meeting at the gap
me alone
Acceptance
sitting on the ridge of my nose
so far removed
from rejection
Who is the warmth of the past?
It's me
The mist of the unknown
Me
Spilling forgiveness like liquor
bridging
across the ridges
here's me
Unhinged - again
Unabridged
Spilt
not spent
Splitting my way through
the covers
falling through space
what dimension?
Spilling back
into myself
Introspect.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC
Feet have a lazy notion to the find floor
lost somewhere under the pile of our clothes,
discarded in our youth a moment ago
falling hungry in an afternoon of us.
The square smile of the window’s face finds
arms napping peacefully where they fell.
Legs entangled like a passion pretzel,
so whose toes are whose.… who can tell?
Under our sheet of perspiration formed
while we wrestled and renaissanced,
we find the cool at last to sleep
before we’re born again.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC