Monday, February 28, 2011

silver

Sometimes I think I steal love,
Hoarding it away into dark holes for the heart,
Keeping it like trinkets to look over on rainy days.
Feeling over the bumps and rough edges
That cause me to look at the worlds ugliness
And smile on it anyways;
That soften atrocity's into forgiveness
Convincing this frayed heart to be brave.

I am really not unafraid
I am really nothing
But love tells me that I am.

ends

And you are always scrapping me with the brittle sound of your words
And I am always using my mouth to question myself
I don't want to be this person anymore.
Each footfall drags me down with the paper tears of a roll I have outstayed my welcome in

I have grown and the shoe no longer fits
I am not your Cinderella.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Everything Ends.

I still have dreams that I'm looking for you
And sometimes I catch up to you,
but you don't remember me
And I don't remember how that makes me feel.

And this is so,
So temporary.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Olive's Ocean

Would you look at me?
It's already too late and we both know it.
Your fingers tangle in my hair and think of salt and sea weed,
A faraway ocean cold and colorless.
You trace the bumps and sharp edged rounds of my spine
A sea anemone made of jelly and stringy dangling left overs.
I never wanted to disappoint.

Somehow you wanted this but slightly different.
So we become this sort of accidental lovers,
Now muted down of any loneliness.
We tire of each others company and bore
Each other with talk,
So neither of us speaks.

Our love making becomes the scene of a crime,
Brutal and violent.
We avoid each others eyes after,
As if each of us knows. . .
But chooses to let our innocence hang
By the thin threads of denial and silence.
And we insinuate into our lives the half hearted attempt
That there are others . . .
But we both know it's only checking the pulse
So we ignore and glance over,
We forgive what never originally offended.
And we do only enough of whats expected to get by.

We make repetitions of patterns that lost meaning
A thousand days ago
But monotony and monogamy is harder to break
Then the disturbance at the thought of sudden change.
"What do we do, dear?"
I will say,
And you will reply with a murmur in your sleep
Which will mean anything a want it to at the moment
Because the noise keeps me up at night
And I haven't the heart or effort to tell you.

I write on lunch break sometimes

I woke up last night
And the terror of my dreams
Wasn't painted on the shadows of the wall.
But the simple stirring of your moth breath
That fluttered the roses on the bedspread
And turned pages in my mind.

I gazed at you and feared losing you
For my dreams are all the same,
I am losing you
And I cannot change.

The music of a dripping kitchen faucet
And the midnight drone of a refrigerator
Lulls me and assures me that all remains the same.
Still I am putting on my jacket
And leaving through the front door
And I'm not coming back again.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Insomnia

Here, under the single florescent light,
I become something other then myself.
The constant pull and flow of a coke heads energy
Has finally subsided to where dreams undulate
Like underwater kingdoms before my eyes.
And water log my brain
So that each step becomes gravityless.

I am not filled with delusions of my own self impotence
Or the wailing cry of drug addiction.
But under the twin bulbs that flicker,
Undecided if they will share their green tinted,
Unforgiving glow with me,
I am passive.

Fascinated with a simpletons tunneled concentration
At the crack in this table
That has sprung up between the grains.
Swelling larger, shifting uneasily, magnifying it's self,
Til it is an abyss I fall into;
A crack in the universe sucking me in.
A darkness that hides such horrible knowing things
That wish to eat me in great sucking, sicking, crunching,
smacks from there unmouths.
I scream, terrified that I will tumble in,
And the universe behind me like a thread pulled through the eye of a needle.

My eyes spring open.
I am at my desk again.
My fingers upon a split in the table
That glows and darkens under the lull
Of florescent lights...

I am alone and something other then myself.