"rendezvousing" poems
You see a kaleidoscopic spongesque speck pushed into a blur over your vision,
Sitting on air & feathers.
You sit on air rather than feathers,
Incased in drywall,
Surrounded by your worldly possessions,
Drowning in sweat,
Suffocating from air,
The hum of coupled fans waltzes’ into your skull,
A metallic mind prints mass media
Via a melodramatic faux-vintage situation into your skull,
There’s the pitter-patter of post-traumatic pondering in your skull,
A Mexican Coca-Cola clutched in your left hand,
Phillip-Morris owns the pocket on your breast so that they sit closest to your heart,
Pabst Blue Ribbon has carved rights to your liver,
You have an over analytic sense of humor and well-being.
Now you decode your day.
Now you chastise your intuition for lustful engagements with shadow people.
Though you have no qualms with this,
You enjoy yourself from time to time.
But cannot you imagine a more climatic proposition,
In a less disposable universe?
Where corners are cut,
Shoving dignity & quality out the door
Is where impractical risks are made.
However,
All you ponder now is the blur pushed into the edge of your eye.
Perhaps it is a microorganism rendezvousing with another microorganism.
Though they would have no concept of predetermination.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
to be quite frank,
it's terrifying
to know
while you're rendezvousing
with your latest infatuation
i feel as though i must
make my wrists
rendezvous with blades
to fulfill the infatuation
you must feel.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
the clothes hang down like they're tryna reach the floor
but no they can't, no they can't anymore
the spots hang around, they aint never cleaned
they just go, yeah they just go unseen
it's that time of the day of the month of the year
we pack up our things and we head to the pier
there aint nothing left to say or to do or to feel
we ate our belongings, we had our last meal
and it was good but it wasn't too great
the school bus was coming but it came on too late
and that's what they call rendezvousing with fate
that's what they call eating shrimp from a bucket
there's dirt on the floor in middle Nantucket
but there aint never a good way to say goodbye
there are planets in the heavens and bats in the sky
the lights were on but we're turning them off
we're taking our things and watching them scoff
there's land and there's earth and there's sea and there's sky
but there aint never, no there aint never a good way to say goodbye
so we don't
and we won't
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC