I'm so far behind my dreams;
and the ones that involve you
leave me unraveled at the seams.
Bunched up.
Hunched over.
Legs stuck.
Fell over.
I just hope I'm still falling;
because if I should land
then I demand that vicinity endears me.
I want to see clearly that which I covet.
Above it all you stand:
atop every command,
any plan,
any vision I've commissioned
for the sake of tradition…
…yet you rest under admission.
I wish to profess
but I could never express
lest I brandish transgression
like a weapon never used
fused with reckless abandon and traction.
You are my favorite distraction.
Nothing of novelties that of pearls
but more like places in the world
I thought I'd never reach.
And if these words must be swallowed
lest my stomach becomes hollow,
I sit here anxious awaiting your speech
to the chagrin of starvation.
So rich your fervor like animation
imparting imagination to me
like past moments forever new.
I sit here often stoic yet softened for you.
Heroic to those who need me.
Just Poet to those who see me
the way that you do.
I weave through lines just fine
but can't read them to you.
I knead some through you.
I press them down.
Depressed and drowned in brine.
Regression to a time
when admiration had few names.
This hood placed above my brow
Is my only option now.
How I tread slight and steady
Indicative of whether I'm ready
For what is rendered in perception.
Discretion never under seizure.
Quite the feat for the believer
unafraid of what remains to be seen.
I have been to the edge of affirmation.
At the summit I have closed my eyes
To awaken on the pavement.
The leap came with no instruction
Per the art of introduction
But I was brave.
No induction.
Nothing governed.
Through feelings we are enslaved.
Time will pave the way.
What we learn today
Cannot speak about tomorrow.
Anticipating sorrow staves enchantment
But the relaxed may face entrapment
in the face of humiliation.
Awkward interpretation.
Words that shouldn't need translation.
Maturation at it's peak
Yet and still I barely speak
Without weakened knees and grinning,
heavy breaths and blood thinning.
Wish to tell you how I feel.
Funk of fear so rank and real.
Wish to capture what I've missed.
Wet this air. Despair so brisk.
I just wish it were outlined.
Much maligned without the signs.
Signs I'd love to light and linger
Yet I sit here biting fingers…………
…………………………………I like you.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
Magnificent.........
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