"Soap Box And Ceiling"
Personal enough to ask off this ride,
Thoughts seeping out that I usually hide.
Call it pride and say that you're over it
And I'll still air it out until I'm over with.
I'm years past done with concealing.
These days, with pen in hand
If I'm sitting alone, just say "He's dealing"
And abstain from future page peeling.
Lord knows I've done my fair share anyways.
Paranoia settling in on my bad days
When I refused to talk but had words to say
While you were busy working on a new display.
That's when stomachs start churning
Over discoveries concerning
people I wouldn't grab the hose for
If I were there when they were burning.
Learning the extent of interaction:
Actions motivated by ill fated passion.
The traction it provides is deadly.
So I shy away if you previously led me.
Desire the provider
For those fashioned as liars
And the cloak will itch
And the eye will twitch
And the lip will quiver
And it will deliver.
Eminent acceptance against futile resistance
complete with quarters closed around distance.
All in the feelings,
Months since the reeling
And the last thoughts before rest
Hang from this ceiling.
My reflections clumped together
Reminiscent of wet tissue
bring me to a point
where I begin to examine every issue.
Is it honestly a trust issue
If I only trust God?
What about the lust issue?
What if fate just missed you?
What if faith isn't enough?
Does a wraith appear and such;
Telling us to go ahead
Just because it's getting rough?
Is there something rude about fortitude?
I have so many questions
And even though we earn the answers,
we never really want the lessons
Until forced to face depression
and hardship borne of transgression.
Truth will run rampant like infection
Through those trying to avoid detection.
A grain of salt for those
Who "know that I won't get to Heaven."
Can't hide their faults;
Especially if they know nothing of number seven
And we're all far from completion,
But we love to compete when
Questioned about our faith.
No challenge or dire straights.
Not rubbing it in your face.
Not stating any demands.
Not looking to alter plans.
Just wanted to understand
How things that affect the family
And eventually the home
Can lead to headline tragedies
when some are left alone.
Some couples still feel alone:
Married by tradition
But marred in their willingness to spar;
Steeped in their war of attrition.
Recalling times when I would listen
To words from family members.
I wondered if they were still smitten
Or if their hearts were ever tender.
Aunt would say she wants
a man that stands strong
But turn around and disrespect
any man that chose to stand alone.
Uncle fashioned himself
as a king upon his throne
but if womanizers rule,
one would section off his zone.
I see a little of myself in my relatives.
Some of it I'm proud to have.
The rest I'd love to give back.
Struggled to keep myself intact
But I'm demure amid my peers.
Learned to conceal fear
And absorb those tears
Before I grab my gear
And I think but never look twice
When it comes to my vice.
Agitated but speaking nice
When friends ask me for advice.
I'd like to reciprocate.
I want that shoulder to lean on;
But when treated as magistrate,
it gets hard to acknowledge peons.
Not peons for my means of advancement
But for their willingness to ignore
What I swore I said before.
Do you listen anymore?!
Do you care that I implore
or just like to hear me talking?
If I reach deep in your core,
then I'm sure you'll just start walking.
I've got more to say.
Kept my ink pen steady.
Just open up a window
if the atmosphere is heavy.
The air is thin and therapeutic.
Listening to music and breathing hard
Both from my lack of oxygen
And because I'm thinking hard.
Swore I'd never play this song again.
Barely friends. Just some things.
Can't remember when. It was just a fling.
I can't eat these lies.
Eyes well and my heart still swells.
Some days in paradise are pure hell.
Our past in my face with a fast pace
Grazed with grace and I can still trace
Every single moment.
Sitting here alone with
Contrition and atonement
That I wish you would've given.
Don't know how much is forgiven
But at least we're both still living.
Privy to precious moments in divinity
And our favorite unspeakable obscenities.
That's what remains of our memories.
Two pages in and I'm lost again.
Might just take a break
And pick up the pen after.
Documented the smiles
And reminiscences over laughter.
Went through all the wiles
And anger that I've splattered.
I'll keep this book open.
I need to add some chapters.
A clear vision of the sky
Hangs high above the rafters.
If the ceiling is made of glass,
Then it will surely shatter.
Just sit my notebook to the side.
I still have some life to gather. †
