Saturday, March 31, 2012

Lucky

I have two tokens and a card:

One I bought
one was chosen for me
and one was given.

Something about your mid twenties and alcohol
on a speak-easy Saturday night
makes you want to confess
all of the untied fragments that
you may have forgotten
living with the lint in your back pocket.

And as you reach in deep to pull out
a conversation
pieces of it spill out onto the floor like
bouncing marbles, rolling
as others trip
over or roll with them,
reversing their sides of that card.

Our histories are pieced together of frames
we choose to keep,
because sometimes we are not collecting
and sometimes we
are not looking.
Through that lens,
sometimes we are living in real time
and not thinking about how this time
will become the last time
or the times before
we realized it would keep us,
because we do not keep it.

Something about whiskey on your leg
and a book made in your hand that
makes you invert your intro
version to a complete exchange of purity.

There I saw, with one blind eye a man can still see
sometimes more than he wants to.
And if my chosen token allows it,
he may see me for the first time
instead of seeing himself.

I bought myself a smile that night,
but she unfolded after I had left the room.






Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Moment

I suppose I should write,

since there is no one,
in my phone at least,
who I know now
that would come
for me
tonight.

I suppose I should write
about how isolating standards
put down red tape
and create the illusion of grass growing greener... but

for what?

I want it closer,
because I can't feel it anymore.
             the pillow does not smell like you
                        the picture is not on my desk

                               Nothing comes in
               nothing goes out

Sealed bottle of flat soda

I close my eyes
to try and catch the evasive shadow
of the dream I once had
where you came to me
and with loving cheeks
caressed them
against my pale, sleeping chest

only to open them
to the stale sunlight in my gray room
with cold spaces
and the weights of winter's solitude
crashing on my bed

to greet me in this
flat feeling
that follows
every glimmer in a steady glance
faded

every hours long embrace
lost

every kiss
filled with cigarette smoke
in my lungs breathing
holding
for that feeling
but the burning never comes.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Wake Up

It's all a distraction!

From you
    for you
to step out
fall
and feel
because you wanted to
get lost.
maybe you'll never make it back home
back to you
but you had to prove it
...to yourself?

        How am
        I not..
             -I am
        Myself?



Strange how
we become
attachments
to the vice of distraction

looping through
for the sake of
progression
...of who?

The image of achievement
subdued the center
masses
for the cause
for an idea
....for who?

the only thing to overcome is the self.










Not for Love

I am not in love

I am in the gray

I am not thinking
obsessively
obsessing
over
it

I just am

I am not on fire

I am in the blue

I am not asking
looking
longingly
for the
answer

I just am

at the mercy of this moment
held here

I don't feel
anything
I don't crave

Not complacent
no

just existing
and feeling
the nothing that is surrounding me

the nothing inside of me

Not depression

just seeing
and knowing
the moment is ordinary

nothing thinking
just being
and being me.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Now and Then

i feel so alone

friends holding up my standards

not understanding

where happiness lies
or where functionality begins

why must one be compromised?

in this tunnel of chaos
with fear and its blue legs running
from feeling unworthy
for feeling guilty
from asking for what it needs
its love is conditioned to give
giving
without receiving

and i feel so alone

caught between what i need

and selling

what the soul desires
for the standards of my cog in society's function

why must we be compromised?