untilted rubbish.

You reminded me of something that just happened just last week; I woke exceptionally late to meet a friend for drinks and when we were done we walked outside the bar and noticed the sky looked rather bleak; she wasn’t one to say goodnight and instead kissed me on the corner of my lips but mostly on my cheek as if to say until the next time we speak.

And just then as I put one foot in front of the other, I felt fear compounded, a year’s worth in just a second; there was every reason to be afraid, the sky was no longer under mother’s control; the sun rescinded behind the horizon and clouds like dying embers in their own retreat; it was the dark condescending the light which left a melody in which we lacked the motion to move too.

A voice casually said it’s this or the apocalypse but the only thing on my mind was her scent as she walked away scantily clad with a swagger in her hips; the morning before normal waking in a new reality trying to commit it all to paper and here I was amidst trying to find the grips to lift this thought process before it turns and floats away as a vapor.

Nary a place in my head of which I could make it my destination or a hand to the voice for which I can wait to sweep me up and just then that’s when I saw the girl in the red summer dress standing at the edge of my bitter end; the last scenes filmed in a room all alone, her head down for sakes of discernment over the waiting unknown.

She was the catwalk wonder and the whispers of judgmental eyes pushed her through the clouds clinging onto a determination; she carried a camera everywhere she went to capture the hesitation burning through your eyes when you feel her apprehension of her decision to function on the underlying subjective of capturing the perfect mixture of beauty descending, hitting the bottom and it’s collision.

When all was said and done and the moment now gone when time stopped and there she stood like a vision, sunlight through the rain; checked, I was all wet and she went down; the camera makes the same sound even with the lens cap left on.

I felt I lost it in the time it takes the sun to rise and shine, I must admit that lately I haven’t been good or even fine; there are words for people like me but I don’t think there’s very many.

I’ve gained little to no control and I’ve decided to take life’s corners faster rather than slow; all the people in this situation that I know barely live and live to only exist; walking through life without a glow and no matter how hard I try, I can’t find a persuasion that I can be into but I’m beginning to make sense of why people like me persist.

Living for the second the prey goes on display in the reflection of the hunter’s eye; we lie on fault lines and pretend they’re safe foundation; we couldn’t have picked a worse location but now I’m feeling well. I’ve gained control and then lost my soul.

I just printed out everything I’ve ever written,

the finished stuff, its about 2.5 inches of stacked paper.

#1.5

I went to Fedex Office today and made it double sided,

wire bound it with a black back and clear front,

its only about .75 of an inch thick now.

Contrite it seems that I need to find a space in which I can breathe with lungs that don’t quiver when I freeze; a spirit crushed like the powdered inks mixed with water to paint the lines of separation in grids and degrees.

I ask was I; I was not ready to deal will all the distant things stuck in time like a painting of sickly trees each with one green leaf sorely out of place simply craving to be.

Secretly wishing to make an amends with all the spirits that too soon found their ends, I stand; I demand ghosts half there and half aware to let go of living infatuations with having elations attributed by a special who, what and where.

I become just like a lonely dog lost in the streets with a home in its heart that seems so far apart from where it is now and where it needs to be.

In our heads we see a group of friends holding hands singing campfire hymns in hopes we can erase our sins or at least find resolution as the water rushes in, fills to the brim whilst we decide if we should sink or swim.

I try to break my own heart, I try to wear myself thin, and I try to start all over just do it all over again. I do realize these analogies are truly, truly all of me; I am of a blind congregation playing my part.

We shovel with red hands filling the holes in our souls with the holes in our soles from running in circles instead toward far away goals.

My predictions are the only things I have and the only soil I can grow in; it might take one hundred years before I see the first budding seed but at least I know that it did come from me.

She’s my sunlight in a world that’s gray. She’s breaking through the clouds in each and every way that counts. Beams of light to save my life, I’m saving my life thinking of her a little every day.

Soothing the fires raging inside with word play; twisting and bending, breaking and fixing, contorting images in my head to fit to the words on paper; the warmness of her words like a blanket.

I’m holding what I know about this woman close to home and when I try to forget, I’m just faking it. Every thought that falls from her lips was spoken to raise my spirit. This just might be true love and possibly the first time I can feel as if I’m part of, no longer on the sidelines as the world plays the part of the juxtaposed passerby, no longer will I have to stand idly by.

Escaping confines as a figment of my memory, no logic or reason can define this muse to any extent or tell me what she represents. My head is spinning and my thoughts are caving in and now I’m having problems forming sentences about this woman.

25-may-2008

I’m completely lost in why you always address me with faded memories but for the first time I can see through your fake smiles on lips so sensuous.

Fingers following the sweat that trails down your hips; I fell in, forgot original intent or why I write of you in past or future tense.

It’s an idea of happiness, a perspective on all your actions, relief discovered with the comfort found through sharp objection and even sharper objects held up against our skin; even then everything falls apart.

This is a modern day reverie with every kiss being a love lorn memory and every touch is intimacy without the intricacy, our hiding idiosyncrasies in the back of our minds.

Move through me like a ghost and share feelings unbeknownst, every glance stolen from the side to find salvation for these tired, empty searching eyes.

-may 13, 2009

And we gave into a giving and said thanks for simply living; we all seem to be content with existing and breathing has since became an ambition; the simple things we’re after like living and living then finding repetition lost left longing and leery in suspicion.

So in these circles step softly and recite not the things you said, make them secrets and take them to your grave instead; let no one know that God hasn’t any friends and if wilderness is found laid out across your heart then child I do understand that you haven’t a clue where to start.

-30Apr10