"Pulse Two: Confine"

"Pulse Two: Confine"

I remember when I was
as gullible as children.
Impressed just as much.
Always ready to touch
and very little has changed since then.
Somewhere near intrigue.
That's where it begins.
Saw the shine.
You would blind with the sequins.
The fusion between confusion
and curiosity
only serves to disprove the mediocrity.

Where are the directions?
What's with this inflection?
I know I'm far from brilliant.
I don't need the new lessons.
The brave are fools that question
while looking for connections
without regard for if its hard
or some means of protection.

But this is life after all.

We have crawled
after evidence of walking.
We who hear everything
but have made no time for talking.
The chalk outlines our history
and I'm too pissed to be
the flame bearer
and the one waving the flag.
Who should pick up where I lag?
Is there one who stands appointed
or am I to sprawl disjointed
here before the hecklers?

You say they never matter
but you know better.

I'm not stupid
and you lack no intelligence.
Once the path was crossed
those days have grown distant ever since.
Never send the sheep to slaughter
especially when they are
compared to people.
If you look through the peephole,
you will see how ghastly
your conviction makes you look.
The musings of a crook
are charity to the misinformed.

Such is the norm.

Quick thoughts.
They swarm the conscience.
I no longer wonder why
the conscious minds are viewed as relics.

Even if you said it,
there's no shield against complacency.
The latency of independence
is true sorrow for thinkers
who become drinkers
to deal with the frustration.
Gone is the elation
coupled with deliberate originality

or decisiveness.
or divisiveness.
Just recycled shit
that men kill each other to cherish.

Here is where we perish.

God bless we who were
as gullible as children.
At least their curiosity
can still cut through mediocrity.

Your privacy intact
is just an act to entertain you.
The policy for washing brains
involves a strain
of hollow means to complain.

That's distraction.

While you complain,
somewhere ingrained
will be a plane
of truth contained.

Outlaw reaction.

For every faction we form
there will be reformed
a way to digress.
This is more than most will digest
but if you just sit at the table
you'll be fed much more than fables.

We watch the world spin around,
decide we're dizzy then lay down
and rise up with chains and string.
Life lived lost don't cost a thing.

 











Don't you think you've lost something?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

___________________^__________

"Pulse One: Unzip"

"Pulse One: Unzip"

Eyes that plan like
eyeing plans like
tieing hands.
Those
binding hands so
idle then wild like
exploring child who
found the paste and
marked the face.

I 

know the motion and
taste emotion.
It soothes like lotion.
This pungent potion,
it wreaks of fear.
those salty tears
that land in ears
I stack in tiers.
I have for years.

If

you could measure
your portion of pleasure,
your pearl on the pillow,
your coveted treasure, 

would you go through with it? 

Would you trust me with this blindfold?
Would you still believe if a lie is told?
How bold before you say "take it back?"
Do you still care if you make it back? 

Laying back.
Lying down.
On your knees.
On the ground.
Yeah I'm down
and if you frown
then pretend some laughter.
Leave the chatter.
We're here for now
but I'm leaving after.
No seeing after.
Just covered eyes.
Tug at the ties.
No knots to slip.
So vice the grip. 

So true the story. 

So vague my thoughts.
They lay before me.
One hand unbound
just for exploring.
You can't come down
so play before me.
Between the sounds
you reach out for me. 

You

get a firm grip
and would bite your lip
if not for handkerchief
lodged between teeth
where the moans would meet
with screams that expand lungs.
Tongue bounced between
cheek and dirty fabric.
Rapid fire rabid
like it was a habit.
Spoken tongues of glory.
Boundless sin before me.
Lips so raw and swollen.
Find some allegory.

Searched

for what it means.
Perched above like fiends.
You my latest dream
born of longest slumber.
Name among numbers.
You my favorite symbol.
Closer than the needle
but I hold the thimble.

How

you shake and tremble
bound and strapped in earnest.
Declined the ice water.
Feet placed near the furnace

and

pleasure you've furnished.
Can't stand so you learn this
through torture devised
 
to incur demise

at

each waking moment.
You hold no atonement.
Just the want for more  
sweat seeping from pores.

Wrists
bound to the door.
Stripped
down to the floor.
Gripped
you at your waist.
Lips
I bite to taste.

.......if you push me,
I won't say I'm sorry.
I can't pretend that time is thin
and wonder if you saw me.
You are the fang,
the fur
and the fin
but I promise safari.
Long since I've met such charming
firm figured flesh worth scarring.
Heart in the chest for sparring.
Heart worn on vest.

I'm starting

to wonder if
this is a gift
or my affliction.
I do this well
to soothe and quell.
This may be my addiction
but addiction
to affliction
isn't far from a prediction
and if so,
I'd let it show.
I will subscribe to no prescription. 

Listen.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz 

______________^________________

"Bounce"

"Bounce"

When I call your name,
anticipate me like the first time.
Lines you've done more than
just fill in the blanks with.
Hips that switch
and
lips that drip
and
muscles so strong
that long for exploration.
Fixed focus when descending stairs.
Your hair tangled in the keys
better mangled in my hands.
The ceiling fan monitors moisture
almost as well as I intend to.

When you hear my voice,
does it tend to linger?
Do you touch yourself?
Do you trace your fingers?
Do you arch your back
in this familiar posture
of forfeiture and submission?
Position where dominance starts at the tip
and guilt disappears at the hilt...

.....those petals never wilt.

Please excuse my wonder.
Focus on enchantment.
Say you "can't with"
and then dread the without.
I'm not here to feed your doubt, love.
Some gloves fit to display
the danger of never removing them

but you're a thrill seeker, aren't you?

You fix your eyes on the keys
as you straighten your knees
and
keep them apart
and
before you start your next stanza,
I give you all you can handle and more.

If it's all the same,
you can give yourself more.
Please don't be ashamed.
Greed benefits this instance.
Glutton unbuttoned and bound to punch
line after line out
whilst I dig you out.
Shout and I'll reach for your soul.
Fingertips along your spine 
searching for a chance to take hold.

Rhythm falls in place.
You can lean into me.
Baby, lose that grace.

You've earned the right to be filthy.

Feel me feel you out
and
fill in places
after
feeling spaces
that
should never be wasted
when
there's filling remaining. 

Training your eyes to the paper
while you thighs I savor
before and after enjoyment.....

My tongue spells your name
and I bet it tickles.
Calligraphy the same.
Nothing plain or simple.
Through the moist membrane,
your lips swelled like dimples.
Never asked you if you came. 

Never just a game we play. 

Read it back to me.
Shake and tremble.

Recite words that flail so fickle....

....let the remnants splash and trickle.

All in rhythm. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Tuesday's Grace"

"Tuesday's Grace"

I miss her when the week ends
and anticipate on Mondays.
Some days, Sunday takes forever
but nothing beats the change in weather.

Time tells the story before me.
Fragments.
Fragrance.
The frequency of my excitement.
She would entice with
no true motive hinged on doing so.
So beautiful her ignorance.
Innocence is rare. 

I dare not miss the moments.
I turn and pry and sit
with all my will and grit
just before she begins speaking.
Love through Life in all her teachings.
She would speak to those still reaching
and remind them that their further
is never really that far away.
Not much more she'd need to say.
Most would steal away
but I would always choose to stay
amid her ambiance so ever-present. 

Effervescent are the times
carefully logged as journal entries.
Others envy for lack of inclusion.
Our seclusion a relic among the modern. 

I reminisce through Thursday
after dreading Wednesday's arrival.
Hours wait behind the minutes
I acknowledge before revival. 

Recollection is vital.
Our day passes by at times
and I am left alone to rhyme
words she'd breathe that cleave the soul.
My least favorite of familiar roles.
I place her points in rhythm
toying with her pomp and poignancy
to preserve the jewels within them. 

She's a blessing not as routine
as the seconds that circle minutes.
She begins with what dreams drift into:
a smile that would subdue the savage,
comfort greater than a mother's carriage
and a voice as soft as petals.
One could settle on such and be fine
but I long to experience her mind. 

Divine if never defined before now
would claim her as embodiment.
Selectively inquisitive yet fully aware
that all the answers haven’t been shared.
She addresses with care
and would never feign her interest.
At her very best, I imagine
her in the brightest lights fashioned
for one as radiant as she. 

Time is what we're taught to see.
That's why we overlook so much

but in her presence, life can't rush. 

The atmosphere demonstrative.
Deliberate decisiveness.
She is energy displaced but never wasted. 

With haste, it seems our days are less frequent.

Friday is a quiet reflection
of what I'll always treasure.
Through the chatter and laughter of Saturday
I make time to count the measures. 

Pleasure a pompous assumption.
With gumption, I've learned to look for more.
Life is less of a chore
when there is happiness to chase

and at least today, 

I can look at her face. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Love And Water"

"Love And Water"

One splash and I'm losing my mind.
One sip and I'm falling in line.
A few dips and you'll fall for it thrice.
Don't trip. I once thought it was nice. 

Those are just thoughts. 

I could spill some more.
Make it seem enticing.
Let me thrill some more.
Let me feel some poor
when I fill some poor
mind with the grand design. 

You're fine?
You decline?
No?
You will some more? 

Never underestimate the ability of a lie. 

It is a race.
Fast pace.
The agility to fling you into obscenity
adorned as affinity in all it's divinity.
Synchronicity feigned.
Their reaction the same.
When they call out your name,
your conviction is tamed.
Your defense is now lame.
Clarity slowly mamed
and there's no time to waste.
Rub it out and erase. 

Would've braced yourself
but there are chasers to swallow.
Bottom of the shelf
and the remnants to follow.
Wonder and wallow
as it runs from your pores
like children from chores
and only a few tears can restore the moisture. 

Don't regret when you sweat.
That's called a life lesson.
Don't cry if you're dry.
Make dust from transgression. 

Even when your kidney starts to clench,
thirst must not be quenched. 

The fowl fare from the stench
so thirst must not be quenched. 

Life will dare. Don't relent.
Thirst must NEVER be quenched. 

In your heart you will wince
but THIRST MUST NEVER BE QUENCHED. 

Left feeling full, weak and timid
after gorging on a gallon
pushing far past limits
never set by the standard barer.
So if the issue is standard,
why is the receiver a bitch or a bastard?
Never outlined the hazard.
Just tossed them on the train
to see some trees when the forest
could make better use of the rain. 

That pit in your stomach called pain
is nefarious.
It will carry us
as far as we wish to run
but like wild game caught in vines,
you will not escape the gun.
The pit is having fun
and will see you bawl
and beg it for another taste
just to make sure that you fall. 

Try to crawl dried up.
Like your limbs tied up
and your skin rides up.
Can't pretend. Pride up. 

Can't defend so peruse.
Can't contend so just choose.
What's a sin to new rules?
What's a win if you lose? 

One will keep you alive.
One will thrive as you concede.
One will help you survive. 

One is a want more than a need. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Proximity"

"Proximity"

The hardest thing I'll do
is think of how to look at you
and smile.

Honestly,
I thought it would take awhile
to place you in this setting.
Loathsome trials so unrelenting,
a dozen moments worth regretting,
a hundred miles and no forgetting still...

The door sill sealed
to these sound proof chambers.
Resembled infants in their manger
seeking refuge from it all
where the darkness crawls
and holes are punched in walls
and bottles are hollowed out.

There's nothing left to talk about.

Conformed to this routine.
Crush it all.
Burn it clean.
Stare at the steam and inhale vapor
then do us both a favor
and look away when you address me.

I've yet to perfect the task
and my masks are worn.
Most of them torn from my face
by hands that used to soothe.

Rather rude to norm:
The misinformed
but we are so very astute,
aren't we?

Nothing daunting.
You don't taunt me.
Terribly gaunt to be concise.
What you want you don't say twice.
You play nice until it earns no thrill.
The sudden chill of altered will
withdrawn beneath stints of indecency.

Life visits frequently
to remind us of that
which we try not to recall.

The fall.

Who stands to be victimized
if we both proceed to plummet?
Met you at the summit
on the very cusp of insanity.
How clear does one think
while pushed to the brink
dangling loosely from the edge?
Released my hand from the ledge

but the descent felt like a lifetime in the making.

Found some distance.
Captured grace.
Lasted briefly until your face
found reason to incite me further.
In a murmur I have cursed you.
By virtue alone I am thrown
yet I survive this fall
albeit with broken bones
and I still have not received levity.

You lay there next to me.
Blood you swore you'd never taste
has gravely disfigured your face.
Can't turn away and you lay there.
Sufficient to say that we'll stay here
and my difficulty will remain true:

The hardest thing I'll do
is think of how to look at you....

...................and smile.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"The One With The Lights"

"The One With The Lights" 

She peers over her shoulder occasionally. 

When turning her head,
it looks like she is daring
her past to catch up to her.
New her.
Newer.
Never knew her
but I almost wish I had.
I'm sure her past was as alluring
as the present she displays with grace. 

One glimpse of her face
and I commit her to memory.
Symphony of billowing leaves
whisper rhythm in her stroll.
Delicate yet in control.
Not defined by role
or how others may perceive her.
I believe her. 

Believer I've become in her presence
in the most perfectly possible essence
of effort displaced without twisting one's face.
Her countenance holding firm
to dreams one can't pretend to conjure.
She knows triumph and forfeiture
but will shy away from
an open display of either. 

I
Need
Her.

Like lust was the conclusion forgone
positioned well within a zone
next to awe, admiration
and other indications of desire. 

She is the fire that I presume
does not intend to consume
but rather to serve as a plume
on which all surrounding is illuminated.
I've found myself drawn to her luster
with more intrigue that one would muster
for what took three forevers to grasp. 

Hands clasp as she speaks gently.
Wondered if she would befriend me
or think that I'm strange...
Maybe she'll find that endearing.
In the clearing of busy streets
cluttered with faces to greet,
everyday existence in all its volume
appears meaningless without her inclusion. 

Like nothing I've ever witnessed...
She is distinction.
Whilst life struggles to climb the rungs,
she is true ascension.
That next dimension.
My paradise
although I'll likely never earn
disclosure of her sacrifice. 

If emotion lined her wrists,
she would enlist resistance
in the form of her penchant
for persistence in squalls.
Calls from the caring
blaring as she passes by.
Few would trust a try
merely for the sake of wonder

and she is wondrous to me. 

Mystique of modern art
in the form of thick lips,
French tips and milky skin
encapsulating within
a mind that knows no limit
to what it will discover.
She is the marvel never uncovered
that hovers over frequently.
Mystery I do not wish to solve
for the sake of being involved and infatuated.
Saturated along my path
are remnants of her last stroll
and I see everything around me
under these broken light poles.... 

Mercy Me. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Star Crossed"

"Star Crossed"

It's dark outside
and we have no audience.
I suppose these are the moments ...
one presumably could afford to miss.
Nights when raindrops trickle
to serve well as visual distortion
now observe diminished portions.

Two singular.

The child's finger frantically tracing
the images in her brain
displayed beyond her window panes.
Streaks of energy
drawn from affinity untamed.
I barely know your name
but I wonder how you sound
reciting mine to request attention.
Contention so simply ignored
that no afterthought was stored.

 You burn bright to command my sight.

Knew nothing and expected less than.
We can ignore the streak
but the remnants will linger.
Maybe that child's finger
will document our impending collision.
Vision is a loaded concept, after all.

The fear of falling once so ever present
is now relegated to the essence
of what memory will not acknowledge.
Knowing that you're glowing
makes the fall much more enticing.
Your inviting hue as you blew past
fast enough for blinks to rob the anxious
I instead chose to experience in one breath.
Left to my own graces,
I'd likely pursue until
the faceless you offered countenance.
In my confidence, forever is less than adequate.

So we soar high
and we fall fast
and the light crawls.
We've let time pass
too much not to take full advantage.
I have perceived you too rare
not to plot one's path toward.

If only this weren't so hard....

We know what we want
and learn where to find it
but never plan for what sits behind it.
In my most powerful of influences,
I still doubt I'd have ever drawn
close to anything that resembles you

and for that I am fortunate.

A rare sight before these willing eyes.
A surprise I've grown familiar with.
A love warm enough to feel
lifetimes away before seeing it for real.
You appeal to my dreams
with the very mystique
that child observes in the streaks
that decorate the sky at night.

Color bounces then fades behind you.
If fortunate enough,
I'll be traced to find you
up high where the stars can't climb.
Our own atmosphere
and should the day come
when you would again cross my path,
I intend to draw you near.

Streaks of glow that crawl forever.
In our distance,
we could care less about stormy weather
when we fall together.

 
 














Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Dreams I Can't Remember"

"Dreams I Can't Remember"

They looked on and then scattered.
Glass shattered
as makeshift molotov invoked dispersion
alongside tear gas
and the flash of burning vehicles. 

I want off now
but I can't pinch myself hard enough
to divert my vision
from the endless river
filling the streets much faster
than that August afternoon nine years prior. 

So I sit here and observe
nerves pushed past the brink
whilst I sink into the background
silenced by the sound
seen in mouths that scream
inconceivable fear and anger.
Danger all but a conclusion forgone
for a multitude of those at home
with martyrdom and misconception
misconstrued amid the deception
that their last resilient purpose
is to hide that they are nervous
in honor of a service perceived
to achieve a goal that
they drive further from in unison. 

I just want to sleep one night
without the plight of this life
threatening to drag me under altogether.
All together,
they implore and ignore simultaneously
to satiate their sacrifice of sanity.
The charity of "may they rest in peace"
followed thereafter by anarchy in the streets. 

The plow and pillage
of a village responsible
for their own sown seeds
and the direction those roots will reach. 

This cannot be reality.
This....tragedy.
I frantically await the day
when the sun will impart rays
to free me from what I imagine
can only feasibly be a fabrication. 

Did I drown from the water
splashed across my face
like the blood that has traced
the very trenches I reside in?
Should I rive in fear
and shed tears with those
whose clothes are tattered
with loved ones murdered by the guns
they now refuse to relinquish? 

Time far from extinguished and I'm drifting.
Can't seam what seems
and can't see through this sea.
Tumultuous tide embracing me
as I float away helpless. 

HELP ME.
I NEED TO WAKE UP. 

For viewers who love to shake up
the reality and the outcome,
where their mouths are from
and why their speech shouldn't be free,
chosen strategically until upheaval
gives way to a wave of people
who we've seen routinely tarry
suddenly rally around a common hatred.
The chosen weapon against this faction
a well placed media distraction.
Some distortion in generous portions
to salve the numb with pop culture
while the battle lines are drawn. 

I myself used to fawn over such a sight. 

The trend of nightly sounds replaced
by the demonstrative pace
of footsteps overflowing with vigor.
The bitter taste of rage
torn from every page
as if there was a deadline
for one to capitalize on headlines
with some nerve to lash out.
Gone are the days
when one would look to hash out
a much more amicable solution
without the call for retribution. 

This revolution was never fantasized. 

These shoulders have grown weary
and I can barely stay up.
All that surrounds me is dreary
and I've no will to raise my head up
to reveal misty eyes
far too exhausted to cry.
Should I gaze upon anything else,
I would look up to the skies
amid this trouble and discomfort.
Not with words to say.
Just in cautious delay
waiting for God himself to say 

whether or not these are our days
or if I'm still sleeping........ 

.........I can't tell the difference anymore. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Delivery"

"Delivery" 

I'm here on my back
and you voluntarily can't breathe.
What we need acknowledged.
Honest and bare. 

Would swear on it all
that I wouldn't get that phone call.
It obviously was never enough
to simply eliminate the bluff.
Stuffed me deep past airways
like days trapped in limbo.
the window barely predicting patterns.
Like a lantern's wick embracing flame,
your name escapes my lips
like embers drifting from the furnace.
Furnished well across this bed.
No clearer head for what we've said. 

Vision fancied and enjoyed
until tangibly employed.
No repentance.
Toyed with senseless
and it all made sense to we.
Shape and color happily distorted
in lieu of what we've purported.
To this day, I still can't ignore it.
Recollection of my body contorted
in surrender of released tension
that you'd ambitiously dismember. 

Understand why I choose to remember.... 

Grasping moments daily
where time can stand still
whilst I briefly relive the thrill
of a fine mess well made.
Cloaked under the thick shade
of racing minds and your eager lips.
Gently kissed the tip
as you latch onto my hips.
Soaked lap and cool air.
fist full of your hair
and guidance all my own.
You knelt at the altar
just to knock over the throne.
Home alone in welcome company.
Hopefully, no one would come for me 

before I did the same for you. 

Siphoned my soul whole
and replaced it with a new
fresh
exciting
enticing
igniting of fire I never knew existed.
Couldn't resist even if I had the nerve
to ignore the time reserved beforehand. 

Your hands. 

Surveying the surface with precision.
Timeless movement under conditions
that most would squander in anticipation

but not you. 

Watched you fondling your fixation
with a purpose only disclosed
after seeing that the morsels of your labor
never make it to your clothes.
Closed mouth well fed.
Still on my back. Spinning head.
Nights since then my skin glows red
sitting at the edge of this bed.... 

....thinking about all that led us here.

If it never happens again,
rest assured. I will remember.
This I won't return to sender. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Blender"

"Blender"

You try to ignore it all
as it falls around you.
You focus on me. ...
They look over to see you
step down from that pedestal
like the Herald of a diety.
They praise you like the celestial
and mock you like the harlots they indulge in.

For so long I was sickened.
Listened to their invites
but was quickened to say no.
I'd rue the day that I would go
and here I am spinning this gaunt story.
You feign intrigue and flaunt before me.
The surrounding taunt my measures
and rationalize their guilty pleasures.
Treasured nothing of this manner.
The theatrics hardly matter.
Pretty girl here twirling faster
swirling helpless as men chatter.

Fatter pockets dictate time.
Scaled back reason. Salvaged rhyme
to flail before them like wind chimes.
Make this fortune in your prime.
Get this money. Start the show.
Hide that tarnish. Make it glow.
For the years that tears must flow,
Do your best before you go.

Mess of millions marked and bundled.
Watch your step or you might tumble.
No breakthrough for damaged goods.
Count it up then place your hood
overhead and avoid strangers.
Day to day an increased danger
from the ones who rob and loot
to those looking for recruits.

For so long I was sickened.

Eyes become hands and the plot thickens.

Meeting them at a premium.
For certain, closed curtains are costly
but only one can afford it.
No one will ignore it.
On the verge once you emerge
to observe the newly intrigued.
Besieged under their teeming enchantment.
You can't but they know you will.
They've laid rumor to your skill
and expect you to act accordingly.
Your name and age are secondary
when the main stage becomes necessary.

Faceless angel with a past
somewhere buried under cash.
Flashed a bit under the spotlight.
Hid the pressure on those hot nights
when cold liquor takes a spill.
Trembling hands outline their thrill.
Gaudy shrill in all the rapture
of attention I have captured.
They cheer on. I take the chance.
Lucky me for this lap dance.
They implore that I enslave you.
No intent but I won't save you.

You've no true interest in me.
Do your deed. Collect your fee
but glancing back, you just may see
where my hands and eyes will be.

This service.
Disservice.
A little nervous.
Eyes fixed on
fawn and the fixture.
The meshing.
The mixture.
Lasting picture of each day.
Pick it all up and walk away.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Movement"

"Movement" 

Amid the stars,
you reach out for me. 

Painstakingly,
I recall past instances
and even times more recent
when I perceived your efforts decent
enough to believe they were sincere.
Crystal clear one's vision
whilst the other darts between
one gleam after the last
dashed glimmer of hope
destined to revert to particles of smoke.
Dreams so dry and deliberately driven
marred by the shelf life
of wishes previewed and unforgiven.
Your eyes are drawn to the shine
but can't manage to muster
what comes of those clusters
once they begin to lose their luster. 

Now your murmurs find me. 

Within the moon's reflection,
you call out to me. 

Tone and inflection
once inviting...
... enticing even.
Sufficient more so now
that I remain derelict to your requests.
Your quest for recovery
a rather inconvenient discovery
of one's penchant for incompetence.
Compliments stalled and angrily sprawled
under the increasing disbelief
that our interactions could be this brief
even when you display grief.
No creaking desire to salve
and I won't open the valve
and I can't always be there
and trust me: life isn't fair. 

Well, 

neither is love for that matter. 

Now you pull away from me. 

Under the brilliance of the sun
you feign your contempt for me. 

The burn.
The churn.
The malaise in every phrase.
So pretentious. Clearly fazed.
Grazed your fault as you vault
over fence lines and chain links
we've forged at the brink
of our nonsensical pattern of behavior.
Time the only savior remaining
for one so inept at retaining
an inkling of realization. 

Our farce is your fixation. 

Yet I ask if you think of me. 

Lit wick and slow burning fire.
It tires but it will not die.
I don't even ask why anymore.
This lonesome chore of recant.
Said that we can't
but we do
and who are we to judge in the first place?
Told truths about love in that first taste. 

Distasteful displacement.
Kept pace with each other's transgressions;
ready and anxious to dish out lessons
that we still have yet to learn.
That foolish yearning for a destination.
No room for transformation
when one seeks out transportation
instead of the will to stand still. 

We fit the bill of overkill. 

I guess you're mad and confused now. 

Me too. Nothing new. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Masks"

"Masks" 

Us in our current state....
...... too late.
Very little about us
is sufficient in this setting.
I tire from the unrelenting:
repenting after repeated trips
through the black water we've waded in.
Dark matter followed by nervous chatter
barely quelling a flame that shouldn't burn. 

So turn away from me.
Please.
I don't trust myself.
I need your help. 

Amnesia hoped for to no avail.
Desperate ambition so frail.
Pale the pigment of dashed will.
There was once thrill in hiding;
presiding over each other in conceal.
Skin worn this thin reveals
to the glancing what we shouldn't feel
so we drape ourselves in torn restraint.
The discomfort a necessary accessory.
Despondent accompaniment of the essential. 

Even as we've laid here bare,
my perdition is hanging over there. 

Recalling days when we treated fear
like foreplay before the blind.
The kind of mockery none are proud of.
Love harder to find with garments removed.
Proven true in how I still look at you.
Would deny myself before letting you see
these eyes so dry from evaporated lies
that I still cannot rinse clean. 

Inadequate that we be seen together.
Weather too perfect.
The birds have flown on for the evening.
No torrent for purposeful distortion.
A small portion of time granted
that should have been recanted
for the sake of those involved. 

We are what cannot be resolved.
We prod.
We poke.
I provoke.
You dishevel.
We choke.
and regret.
and repent.
and resent ourselves. 

They sit on shelves
like ornaments for celebratory means.
Still their disposition disposable
for one's dangerously wavering countenance.
Compliments collected in fashion
whilst working to save face.
I now grace this world with a shroud.
Once proud of what the sun illuminates,
I now await the darkness I wasn't fond of.
Found love and confused it.
Used it to an obscene degree. 

I can barely see and breathe
but this cloak you cannot read.
Restoration crushed like seeds
under feet tangled in weeds.
Preservation of our leads.
Blind before me yet you see

so I disguise to meet the need. 

Please understand.
I'm sorry.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Systematic Strain"

"Systematic Strain" 

The fear is out.
That means the ear is out of frequency.
Public indecency in the form
of a profitable norm
that we have yet to recognize
and I've no reason to sympathize
with the often uninformed.
This ignorance is uniform.
You don't need case in point.
You are the bullet point,
the frame of reference
and the evidence to support it. 

Recall when anthrax was purported:
Still couldn't pay the taxes
and the stamps still aren't free.
That envelope was for me
but you opened it anyway.
Threw mayhem into the fray
so the government had to say
it was an epidemic manufactured
under the backers of biochemical warfare.
There's always war somewhere.
The canisters and casings in large amounts
are only days away from the bank account. 

Fear is profit for malevolent means.
Dreams become nightmares.
Despair much more tangible
than the hope we cast aside thoughtlessly.
A world of fortune found in the notion
that we can't survive the scare
or we can't go anywhere
for sake of being quarantined:
taped off like a new crime scene
and it will be the headline.
There must be a deadline
for dishing out decrepit dissemination.
They claim to inform the nation.
They want to "keep us in the know"
while they show those tears
instead of saying show no fear
and be intelligent about it all. 

Now we sprawl
and crawl
and run away
and say "GET AWAY"
to those just as misinformed as we:
lack luster personalities
who could care less about your fear
or your tears
or the outcome.
They sneer and watch the crowd run.
Did more with proclamations
than a burglar with a handgun.
They'll claim the truth in a joke
just to watch you choke air back,
throw on masks,
tie your hair back
and dust off the safety goggles. 

All the while, powers that be
toggle between powers that free
and messages that enslave the gullible.
They know what trends look colorful
and make no amends for
how the media presents it.
Resentment in every social media post
about a contaminated commercial flight
followed soon thereafter by fright or anger.
The newsroom your manger complete with
a trademark social networking pacifier.
Proud supplier of mass hysteria. 

An area reserved for research
has become bogged down in t-shirts
and collectibles and banners
and a walk to cure breast cancer
and an ALS donation
is an ice bucket demonstration.
How well tracked are all the proceeds? 

I'm done with tact so let me proceed:

Gimmicks noosed around your neck
when you could just cut the check.
Controversial yearly omen
and you know nothing of Susan G. Komen.
Years spent on research and development
and we've yet to reach a settlement
concerning a sufficient timetable.
When will the willing become the able? 

Locked away one day
will be the remote controller
strategically set to Ebola
along with Anthrax
and other shock value relics
like venereal strains reportedly discovered
in a land where mothers cling to
the corpses of their fallen
and we're all in to find a cure
in countries where the water isn't pure. 

I speak not from the realm of conspiracy
but rather from the angry hearts
and minds of those of us
who will not accept the norms.
Don't give me medicine until it harms
and must undergo a massive recall. 

We Call You Out NOW. 

We are not encouraged
by your medical trials.
Our loved ones are out on a fringe.
Someone may fly off the hinge
after a binge on your fear filled vials 

but I will break that syringe. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Over Time"

"Over Time" 

As you are. 

Just right.
Just ripe for the picking.
The hands move so slow
that I can feel every tick tock.
Thoughts rock back and forth
between the last and the next
embrace in a time frame.
A sort of mind game.
An office space chess board
and I'll move the pawns
if you tell the rooks to back off.
I'm back off and anticipating.
Suspense truly deflating
but I've lost no portion of interest.
After awhile, you'll walk by
and hopefully say "Hi"
and I'll have a response for once
better than this cheesy grin
and a stare that tells of sins
I'd commit with you in public settings.
Momentarily forgetting that
communication is a two person endeavor.
Mixed well within the trances
of clever advances
rarely noticed by those around us,
chance appears as if to taunt us;
flaunting shamelessly when we're alone,
deliberately dangling the bone before you
as if surrender is incentive. 

As you wish. 

Fish for compliments.
Acknowledgement.
Accomplishment of the biased.
Your favor my ace in the hole.
Some control is in order.
Wouldn't dare defile the borders
unless you cut the ribbon first.
No concern for the worst
when given the best chance
to quench our thirst.
Endless invitations.
Situations created against means of convenience.
Consistent yet overt
so I always wonder who's seeing this.
All in for the plans.
I don't need the risk
but we want this moment.
Said I won't be sorry.
I won't need any atonement.
Just the will to want it more.
Occurrences only explored
in my mind until now.
So the plot thickens
like this bulge when you bend over.
After this is over, we'll have thoughts to ponder
during business hours and nights barely sober. 

As you were. 

My oft revisited memory.
Obscenities once imaginative
retain seclusion but have become tangible.
Fanciful occurrences I've thought of
in detail adorned with deep yells
and fulfilling sighs..........
now completely before my eyes.
Well worth the effort.
Weathered the pressure
and held onto mystery tightly.
This cover is slightly blown
gently to the edges of discovery.
Concern yourself not with recovery
but rather on how long.
How long will it take for us
to replace this encounter with the next.
Passers-by in busy hallways.
Days trickle from the calendar
slower than your remnants did
before my unruly consumption.
The challenge is not in their assumption
but rather in their inability to uncover.
Lovers of the danger
that begets perceived strangers
given very little means but
still able to wipe the slate clean.
I honestly don't care
about who else has gone this far.
For what we do, I'll receive you.... 

........................ as you are. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz 

[Words]{About}(...) You.

"4 AM Minstrel"

"4 AM Minstrel" 

My eyes meet the sky
under lies I pretend are true.
You for me:
A farce.
A fallacy I fashion into fantasy
in my most weary of instances.

Playful pretentiousness aplenty.
I purposely purport a penchant
for the pomp of passionate moments
that have never even taken place.

I wander in want
and wonder what daunting
depths lie before my imaginative emissions.
Conditions better served for story tellers.
Dwellers.

Sellers of secrets that stick
to the side of the brain
driven so far past insane
that pain is rarely an impedance. 

I dream this and thrive.

I dive. 

I fall in and sprawl when
I crawl into my fondest of fancies.
Glancing at the sky once again,
I grin when one would presume grimace. 

Penance for the thinker: 

Drinker of emotions laced with devotion
to such tasteless thoughts between
what the mild mannered would dream.

One would sigh at the mere sight.
The steam that accompanies what I envision.
Thoughts that glisten but are tarnished.
A far miss from most... 

Most who would boast without hesitation
that the nature of their intent
for some isn't unspeakable.
Even so,
my need to profess is quelled.

So I yell to the skies with my eyes
as if it hurts to blink.
I think of what we'd do
and how much we could get away with. 

A day with desire.

My pupils burn drier than fire
and I cannot maintain.
Eyelids close to calm the flames
and all that remains
are the embers of imagination.

No temptation.
No fixation.
Barely a trace memory
of how you smell to place with
how I believe you would taste. 

No thoughts left to chase.

Just a face etched into memory,
some symmetry for sport
and your number as my very last resort
in case it all overwhelms me.

If ever I dared to call,
I wonder what you would tell me? 

I usually fall asleep by then. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz 

[Words]{About}(Her)

"Insignia"

"Insignia"

The wall is green. 

Can't color your anger illness.
No condition for listless demeanor.
Sweet dreamer of sabotage
secluded in camouflage
haunted by your own shortcomings.
Accountability that of foreign plains
you'd never claim to tread.
Would count the times instead
of even the most obvious of blessings.
Dressing up before facing a world
of those who look past blush and curls
for some semblance of inner beauty.
Their favor you desire
yet you let the worst transpire
before those who bear no notice. 

The depth of your spite.
Contrite never.
Only clever in your calmer musings.
Perceived yourself confusing
when engaged in internal conflict.
Coupled leisure time with
thoughts of how to keep them in the barrel.
The mind surely travels far
for what it stands to gain little of.
Lust for love
with no means of gain. 

Just blame. 

A name etched into the green
clean across the room from you.
Grievance all that you implore.
Those concerned ask for more
but "they don't understand." 

Do they? 

Who knew they had to, honestly? 

Their daydreams of grandeur
you dismiss as blasphemous idolatry
until your chance at such is revealed.
Filled with emotions as thick as potion
climbing up beneath your chin,
drying up from deep within.
No lotion to greet the skin. 

Tie them up to watch them faint.
Line them up and make it quaint.
Cleanest halls you wish to taint.
Washed the walls but not the paint.
Sit there lonesome over dinner.
Quash the Saint. Embrace the Sinner.
Spinner of dark thoughts purported
to the point of true importance. 

Vengeful actions ill advised.
Will to wade beneath the eyes
of bound and broken, desperate cries
in some sick plot to realize
that misery and singularity
are non-productive forms of therapy.
The cost of clarity too steep.
You wash your face with tears they weep

and still can't get rid of the stains.
Guilt rests deep within your pores
to the point where you make sure
that the wall isn't green anymore. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz 

[Words]{About}(Her)