Monday, March 31, 2014

"The Blackout Part 1: Residual"

"The Blackout Part 1: Residual"

Fruit from the vine
plucked after setting it ablaze.
Not phased by this wine
and it's scorched notes so heavy.
I'm forever ready
but can't even pace myself.
Not for sake of lost control.
Just constriction in my role.
Slow roll offers conniptions for commitment,
some restrictions I can't get with,
lustful thoughts I lay here sick with
and no perfect setting to ask why.
Diverted eyes away for moments
but made time to take a glance.
Glance by my fixed definition.
More like staring in contradiction.
Diction my explicit act
When I want that old thing back.
I would write until I pass out
and daydream until I black out.


Responsible for what I say in confidence.
Compliments while endearing to the past
earn a leering from the present.
Presented with opportunity.
Once unity forlorn and torn
into chunks of fast melting confection
by those scorned for sake of affection
have become sought after connection.
I have to watch what I tell you
because lord knows I'm a bad habit.
Had it in the worst way on the wrong days
but it was the very best in awhile.


Just wait for the street lights.

Nights like this with wrists so weary…
bound by exhaustion, overworked often,
won't be long before snoring.
Time worth exploring thoughts
we never had to speak.
Tension peaks to serve purpose.
Bright becomes dim after limbs stretch.
Time stamps stressed in importance.
Before this, we would never cross paths.
I still sometimes wonder if it's too much.
Too much to ask of my eyes
closed thinking about thighs


no longer my own……………

…………ask about how you're living.
Not if I'm forgiven.
Just some time to reminisce
is all I need to give in
and you plant them carefully.
Those subliminal seeds.
You strike a pose to curl my toes
and give me what I think I need.
You don't care about what I want.
Daunting when you flaunt
and place it all before me;
nearly inviting me to address you openly.


Act like you don't know
and I'll show you a little.
Play around until I frown.
Hands down.
Lower.
Imagine my strength within your grasp.
Clasp crossed legs like big business.
Penciled in this meeting.
Greeting an existence that I tried
so hard to see as grotesque
when I fantasize of you at best.
Fresh the flavor of your flesh.


Between yawns we disappear
until we know the coast is clear.
Kept no vast account of fear.
Secrecy runs far and near.
Sought after this much for years.
Tears we've cried diluted pride
and our will to confide in others.
Full of old feelings left to smother us.
Violently choking on it all.
Guilt to the hilt.
Playing with the blade
under the wiles of nightly shade.
We come in waves to overwhelm
as if blatant at the helm
casting all we stand to lose
to the floor next to the shoes.
Nights this busy.
Agenda unspeakable
when addressing the unreachable.
Seemingly, at least.


On bouts of confidence we feast.
We decide if this will cease.
Quite refined yet savage beasts
dashing peace in search of piece……




















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

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