The Living Daylights

The Living Daylights

Death is where we usually do this.

A decision deemed prudent enough

to say "screw it"

should we screw things up

and want to keep going.

The dark sees it all,

after all.

All knowing but showing no signs.

Not a trace 

of us stumbling over each other

and mumbling under the hovering tension.

Detail and dimension mean very little.

I don't need to see that tremble

informed as much by desire

as it is by this mutual ire

so gross and grim

that we only take advantage of

when things are beyond dim.

No grin when I grip your hips

and reach down

to drive a rift between

Leer and Revulsion

with practiced repulsion

at the sight of a frustration

that I fondle fervently

to force out those words

you love to fling my way

until your mouth is full of a malice

thick, meaty and rough

to shut you up long enough

to make a mess of things.

Window reflection would disclose

the violence that we chose

but seldom when the day

has already begun.

We wouldn't dare under the sun.

Even somewhat soon

for us to ravage beneath the moon

but at least we can hide from that glare.

Me sitting here.

Stewing.

You laying there.

Chewing at your lip.

One trip though memories

we've convinced ourselves were loathsome

still holds much sway

evidently.

Slid from the edge to stand over me.

Face contorted in derision

then a measured shift in vision

upon me fitting like an incision

deep inside

watching you ride me through the anger.

Oh the danger we'd attract

under the attack of refraction....

The dirty deeds one would detect

should we fall victim to reflection....

Even recollection is a push

under unencumbered visibility

as onlookers would quizzically

decipher such loose displacement.

Your place is here 

where I've positioned you.

Away from view as stated.

My place is there

with your hands in my hair

somewhere between fond and frustrated.

Whether or not to stop debated

about as long as blinks can measure.

Should the dawn ever reach us

in our effort against one's pride,

it very well may teach us

about the reasons why we hide....

..... I'd sooner die.

Devin Joseph Metz

9.18.21

Morsels

 Morsels

Too much.

Too fast.

This much won't last.

Not at this pace.

Need is a taste

but want is the whole platter

and a steady serving of the latter

is worth resting after

but we never really

ever get to that part.

We keep in mind

and still fall behind; 

losing from the start

trying to race with swollen hearts.

This pace is not healthy

but we implore what isn't helping.

So much.

So fast.

So high.

Do I even fear the crash

when we fly anymore?

Nah. Fuck that.

Let's gulp and guzzle

from that secret stash.

Let's make this last forever

(and ever)

(and ever)

You know that I love you

but I'm puzzled

by a scratched record

worn through with passion.

Were there not enough rations left over?

Which of us crept closer

to climb over the fence

for an extra glimpse

and failed to forewarn

about the depleting numbers?

Has unchecked gluttony

caused this subsequent hunger?

Are we really so starved at this juncture?

Do we nibble?

Should we fast?

Will so little truly last

these measurements so meager?

I mean, I'm still eager

so long as the heart is.

This part is the hardest

but we can scrape

and chip away at the day

and hold these pieces tight;

bound by hope that the night

might preserve portions so frail

before they can succumb

to this thick, haughty air

that slowly makes crumbs stale.

There was a thrumming pang

but we can numb the pain long enough

to keep it all together

and even when I'm fraying at the seams,

I'll still keep some tucked into the creases

so you can have a piece of my love.

(It's waiting for you.)

Just savor what is left.

It's still yours.

Devin Joseph Metz

7.7.21

Alone In The Fog

 Alone In The Fog

I did good,

didn't I?

Was I better this time

than the last..........

......memory?

Person who did this for you?

My last mistake?

Was I not supposed to ask?

Was that too much?

Is my inquiring about mistakes

a mistake in itself?

I'm not tripping.

I promise.

I'd just like to know,

you know?

Do you?

What'd I do wrong?

Nothing? Really?

Really.

That's still something.

Quit preaching to me about insecurity.

I'm not trying to preserve my purity.

I know no one is perfect

but am I that far off?

See,

I'm all about loss prevention.

More ambition

than a mission, per se

so why are you so dismissive?

Does this even matter to you?

Do I?

I................shouldn't have said that.

I knew better than that.

I'm not mad.

I promise.

I just need honesty.

I want you to be up front.

Maybe even a little blunt.

I can handle that.

I can take it........

..........I think........

What was that?

That wasn't funny.

Take it back.

Why even say something like that?!?!

DON'T TELL ME HOW TO REACT.

You're pissing me off

so just fall back......

........wait. Don't leave me.

You need me.

Well really,

I need you to need me.

Dependency so alien

but not at all foreign.

This preemptive prison cell surrounds us

and I act like I've lost the key.

I fling falsehoods with abandon

but act like you've lied to me.

I made the call to build this wall

and scream at you when it's too tall.

I stand at bay from what you say

but won't dare let you move away.

I shrink and hide.

I guard my pride.

I won't even let you talk.

The words I say

push you away

yet I'm nervous when you walk.

Don't leave me.

You know you need me.

I mean......I need you to.

I need you, too.

I need.........

I need you to navigate

but let me be the magistrate.

You can lead and direct

so long as it is circumspect.

Just give me my validation.

We can call that maturation.

I need to be 

Placated and pacified

and no:

you can't ask me why.

I don't want to talk anymore.

Not today.

I'm not alright.

I promise.

I am not okay.

Just promise me

that you'll stay anyway.

Okay?

Devin Joseph Metz

6.17.21

Familiarity

 Familiarity

Lesser known would draw very little

to the surface.

The purpose is enlightenment;

not the fight no one wants to win

really.

Ideally,

one should appear

as near to the memory

as they are in proximity.

Make better use of the vicinity

and let the moments

have a moment

to measure what space remains.

I find that the bind

in these invisible chains

is the invincible space between.

Such a firm purchase

one could only hope to ever glean

a fading, precious glimpse of

yet we dismiss the connection outright

if it is not in plain sight

or our underwhelming definition of such.

Somewhat disturbing to know

that it doesn't take much

commitment to precision

before we fall back on derision.

We downplay.

We despise.

We avert or roll our eyes.

We dig in deep to appear hurt

as if betrayed by a vision

that we're convinced should be on display

whether or not we've even done the work

and therein lies the rub:

If they were vines,

one would tug until they break away;

leaving room for one to say

that the other was at fault

but such a wall isn't vaulted so easily

and conceiving such means with the unknown

won't bring about a softer landing

or a less frightening fall.

It's the chain you know

that won't bend when you lean.

It won't give when you pull.

You'll grip.

You'll squeeze

and tussle with this truth

without acknowledging the meaning

and when the scrapes burn, 

you will return to what you know

but are too stubborn to believe in

only because your palms are bleeding.

Devin Joseph Metz

6.16.21

Trivial

Trivial

Perceiving you as a mere

passing thought

is my favorite lie to tell 

before,

after

and between smiles

knowing well

that these memories I've filed

will last more than a little while.

Hard to reconcile with the calendar.

Masterful manager of a time

that I still seem to 

find myself lost in

if I can't share it with you.

Often at odds with the days,

I willingly create

and peruse the maze;

wishing so hard to be dazed

until I slip into a trance

and lay back;

watching thoughts and feelings dance.

I see them dip

and swish

and sway about in this space.

A place where the way out

isn't paved with doubt.

No scream.

No shout.

No more without.

"About to"

without you

remains unfinished

so I replenish my means

whenever I choose to dream.

Whether pristine

or obscene,

thoughts of you fulfill me.

I wonder if you feel me

blinking away gently

everything within me 

that would chase away the thinking.

I'm honestly curious

about whether or not

you've taken similar note

of the sinking.

No,

Not the "feeling."

Not a clever concept

representative of something

worth concealing from disclosure.

Real,

Literal exposure.

Pushing distance aside

just to place you here

before my eyes

to bear witness to my favorite lie.

Do you in like manner

pretend that I'm some.........

.........passing fancy

or is the truth behind the farce

just as damning for you too?

Where are you?

Devin Joseph Metz

6.14.21