Thursday, April 24, 2014

"The Blackout Part 4: Prey"

"The Blackout Part 4: Prey"

He hovers over you.
He circles your path.

Your bird of prey drawing closer
with each passing day.
In your weaker days,
your cough would whet his palate.
The sight of you getting queasy
over thoughts that come so easy
certainly must make you appetizing.
What would be more enticing
than that agonizing fear?
Paralyzed between your tears
and the years you often recall.
Somewhat appalled you may appear
when recounting all those battles.
You: picked over like cattle
days after impending slaughter.
Farther into the further of your contempt.

Yet you tarry with your gimp
until you can barely limp away.

One would perceive it simply
as dire gluttony concealed
but there are familiar patterns
that have plotted out your will.
You pretend to starve and black out
until the night is drawn back out
but to your unforeseen dismay,
your bird of prey won't wait all day
just for mere pecks at night
and in the eyesight of your pledge,
he looks down from his ledge
but won't acknowledge that I'm near.

His grave indifferent deeds
to substantiate his needs
will be his thoughtless sacrifice.
This heart that would melt ice
has become as cold as stone.
You exalt me high
upon this bench you call a throne
until you are left alone.
Gone are the musings of enchantment.
Our light cannot withstand the current.
Darkness is our deterrent
and the stage I will perform on.

Costly your encouragement.
Punishment in waves.
I WILL NOT behave.
Lord knows I won't stave
a moment's chance to bend this staff
crafted from the affectionate lies
I have become so dependent upon.
You will lead him on.

You will goad him.
You will lure.

You will make absolutely sure
that my swing won't be in vain.
Your consolation every stain
blotched upon this blunt weapon.
I will teach no lesson.
His scream will reach the heavens
but salvation is not his to claim.
I will maim.
He will hear my name
and remain perched. Never afloat.
Your buzzard will not provoke
or I will surely own his throat.

Throw those apologies away.
Reserve words you've longed to say.
Make it plain as I give way.
Make sense of the choice to stay.
Be forewarned should you delay:
keep in mind what I'll display
and if we ever see that day,


all you can really do is pray.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Monday, April 14, 2014

"The Blackout Part 3: Nightmares"

"The Blackout Part 3: Nightmares"

I hear never ending jeers.
My subconscious harassed by your existence.
Memories consistent with a marred past
persistent in their unruly haunting.
Sleep eludes me nightly.
Truly a daunting task
comparable to that of an alcoholic
struggling to empty out the flask.
What lasts I struggle with often.
You pace back and forth in my mind;
waiting for the chance to lash out
should I ever look to blackout.

Never thought we both would rue the day
that I decided not to stay.
Minutes wasted in delay
now impede my getaway.
Suffice it to say,
I knew the dreams would follow me.
Hollow me, in desperate need of filler.
My killer willing to supply.
Gentle these deadly thoughts
wrought in mockery of us……
trust traced in your silhouette
warped whenever eyes are wet.
Distorted vision.
Admission exclusively for me.
Let me mourn peacefully in my slumber.

My choice perceived as blunder
by those remaining at the surface.
Your purpose never more apparent to me.
I can see and wish I couldn't.
Wouldn't matter to you.
That listless expression in your face…
Today's grace, tomorrow's nightmare
and a bleeding heart trapped between.

Keen my recollection of the scene:
Dimly lit hall.
Your heels poke holes in my jeans.
My favorite pair.
My dirty hair.
Your complexion always fair.
I sit and stare at the stairs.
One would presume I just don't care
but my heartstrings begin to show.
Nonetheless, I whisper "Go."
Time never moved so slow before now…
The lasting image my memory touts
is of you leaving out.
I want to shout but nothing comes out.
I am frozen in that stare.
The glare that one light bulb
can give entire hallway……
When you move, you walk away
but it feels like days
before you reach the staircase.
Disgust smeared on your face
when you decide to look back.
Some nights I hope you reach the stairs.
Other nights I fancy you walking back.

Either way, I seek an end
to this image etched in my brain.
I draw some solace from the pain.
Although my faculties are drained
and I have no reason to want you,
my mind flaunts you before me.
Adorned in that which was our last day,
your display remains to this day
amid your incessant jeers
and these unrelenting tears
I've been choking back for years.

Light will only appear to illuminate my fear.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Friday, April 4, 2014

"The Blackout Part 2: Indifference"

"The Blackout Part 2: Indifference"

I used to imagine often
that you struck those poses for me.
Glasses at the bridge of your nose,
the way you fit your clothes,
even the color of your toes.
It was all perfect to see;
but the objection in my eyes
makes you seem worthless to me.

Now I know: It's not fair.
You're still a person to me
but if misread for what is said,
don't take this personally.
I'm not this person you see.
More than a little recluse.
Not keen on recounting trials.
Forgot most of the abuse.
So why don't we call a truce?
Don't be so rude. Stay awhile.
Let's put this tension to use!
Why wouldn't I share the vial?!

How dare you be so helpless?!
These are OUR tears!

How dare I be so selfish?!
These are OUR fears!

Every jeer soaked in conviction.
Our possessions.
If we lent life no contradiction,
how would we ever learn these lessons?
Wouldn't learn how to share.
No real urge towards care.
No true desire to be there.
Not one worry to spare.

Sorry would be so fitting
for one inclined to forgiving
reclined full tilt on the willing
who try their hand at forgetting
the times when words used to lash out.
Every fight was a sad bout
of insults until one backs out
or both swing into blackout.

I'm back out and far away.
I doubt tomorrow will change me.
Left your sorrow somewhere dangling:
hanging from the rafters
that once amplified your laughter
only a few moments after
it all fell straight to the ground.

I won't grab a stitch.
Won't remove a fiber.
The need does not exist.
Emotion is retired
along with the ambition,
the desire to be forgiven,
and any ounce of time given.
No past risen from the ashes.
Gashes under skin heal within
or just remain forever.

Pull yourself together.

or whatever. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz