Standing still in this place. This face full of creamy skin. Hue assured as milky complete with hair this silky whether short, straight or stringy.
You.
The often romanticized dream I can now proclaim as real. Everything we feel as new and sudden as the first chance. Short glance before I step away telling myself "enough today" as if I stand in compliance. Still shots of you in silence stir in me the dirtiest of violent thoughts. Power uncommon coursing through the overlooked.
You.
Never overwhelmed at the helm of life. Strife still stings but you tie those strings. Trifling things but you tie those strings. Pain attached but you break that latch and you scrape and scratch and you peel that back.
Does it feel like that when....? I imagine. I've.....imagined. Fantasized honestly.
I've seen vandals in sandals no more fit for the mantle than that which collects dust. The must of their tread wreaks of ambition driven stale. Ankles pale from lack of circulation. Interpretation of mid-climb forever forging a position construed for blaming time for the self served transgression known as lack of progression.
I've witnessed the witless. Skipping in slippers. Sipper of the cheapest brand. Calloused hands hug the plastic bottle. Full throttle past the tonsils Enter route to the liver. Giver of tales from years no longer recent. Decent in self perception. In their mirror a reflection of what would have been and what used to be. Used to see the opportunity in all things. Now the lonesome heart sings as the mind sways, mumbling.
Stumbling upon your design is for the fortunate among us and I'm still rubbing my eyes. Clouds that drift this high find time to displace. God's grace bathing over you in layers thick enough to taste days away. Words I've yet to say never make it past my grin. Smiles that mix the love within with a bevy of new sins we've enjoyed a hundred times and then for as long as my imagination lingers.
Fingers formed for knots that flip flops know nothing of. Bare or gloved, those hands reach across each impedance with the will to find balance. Challenged daily by those falling, sailing, flailing laces.
Places like this where my mind could slip into the deepest sleep if it meant our hearts could creep closer with each nightly stroll. Time took its toll but the moments are worth a ransom just to have some sensation.
To feel your grip. Your twist. Your tuck between loops circling hoops that trace this precursor for the pace where I can stand in place hoping this life would take the time to just embrace your face as I do instead of trying to outrun, outlast or simply look past it.
"811" It was almost an accident. Accurate assuming that this amusing perusing would reach further than this bed. I'm further in your head than the heart could ever profess. I confess that this is comfortable. Controversial maybe but the sticks and stones you're saving barely bang or brush or shave these whiskers. Don't ask me to whisper when I was the mister that could poke his way through lies
with his eyes half open and your thighs fully fanned. Fancy hands that hold some history. Your misery my absence. It was some sort of intentional. Even cynical, smug texts would end up in tugs next. Ephemeral rough sex. I was the very best. Tale told by every ex overhearing they weren't good. Used to wonder what's good but I've seen this place. I'm good and I should turn down the proposition. Unless we talk, don't care to listen. When you spit shine, I glare and glisten. Unless I walk, you aren't my mission but that shit's mine. I barely miss it. Narrow in escape. I have the cape. I wouldn't save it, though. Quick behind the drapes. Embrace your shape before I wave and go. Made calls from the ground below. Heard the yearning sounds below. Unless you resound in "No" way under the ground I go. Whether it be sun or snow, Weather underground to blow. Lost beneath your lava flow. Watched how high the lava goes just for kicks and now you know our time was picked without the show. You wouldn't understand. I'm a man so isn't that my trait? Every loop and strand recalled like rubber bands in the hands of fate. Casualty of mockery. Overtime you've docked from me. Over time you'd knock for me to display your hypocrisy and not for me. Rather so you'd feel better. She was a flame. I'll soon forget her but I remember you so vivid. Lonesome nights just lost and livid. Lust like lipids once lukewarm soon burn like fat to singe and harm and hurt so good the helpless victim. No real thrill. No life within them. Salty with the bitter taste. Squint your eyes and smush your face. Milk and honey much misplaced. Melting moments soon displaced and where we stand there are no plans to lay with limbs I part with hands. I'm not your past. I'm just a man. I've no demands. Not anymore. No settled score. Unsettled more with your permission. Made prior calls in my position. Once lined your walls with peak precision but when you fall from my omission, spare me the slight of your skewed vision. Checked beforehand long before hands would be so instrumental. Neck still purple, red and riddled. Gasps from flesh that grazed my dental. Hapless test confused the mental. Had your guess been influential, this would all be incidental but this was almost accidental.
Almost is the most that we could ever hope for mostly. Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
Pretend to be concerned while you conceal the laughs. Press on until you strike a nerve. That's when you'll start to gasp. Once viewed judgement with disbelief. Couldn't conceive the laughter. The line between relief and grief: A myth. A missing chapter. No thought worth missing after we've fought to fuel the rapture.
"What's wrong?" Nothing.
Thought to say something but the ear as lame as trend won't recall where I begin yet the eyes will drift on end to ticking hand's impatient rend impartial to how this may end. At my end I've wasted wit in lieu of cause I've deemed legit responding with full gall and grit in hopes that all would benefit. Still young the years seen in these eyes amid the fear and tears I've cried. Watch as I form lies so yours aren't shed. Better off in head. Better off when dead when they talk about without talking out and they love to shout in spite of support. Hate the cherished sport. Meaningless retort. Mix the news report with the scathing post. Navy boats called gravy boats. Maintaining boasts of profit. Twisted logic all the sudden. This does not fit what was governed. Sulk about aside the sullen until news comes from the southern tip of things we must endure. Fleeting pristine. Nothing pure will last this long. Dissecting slurs like classic songs whose lyrics ring well in the mind. Lost on cordial, calm and kind. Militant as long as time lends credence to this headline.
"What's the problem?" Never mind.
Mine never when minds mine through mine mind like mines. Excavation on display. Escalation that of carefully calculated inflation: considerably convenient in delay. New in ways to rue the day. Grew today to be snatched at the root. Fruit half consumed as the rest are tossed aside. Took pride in my impending denial. Vile I appear in petition. Classified under condition should I ever challenge tradition. Classic. Transition not commonly seamless. Seen less after the fallout than there was before I called out to blame and name and shame without the desire to maim. I the one of a lone few that knew the need for seeds was far greater than the wood stripped away from less aged trees.
The trees drew more concern than the forest that slowly burns and in term, there is nothing in turn to expound upon what we have learned.
What have you earned? My silence.
No whispers from violence debated over more than dashed. No inflection per direction of selective dereliction by those who support affliction against opposing views of diction. The conflicting views seen as miscues misunderstood by the very best bad marching as the greatest good. Stood here and witnessed transformation in confused horror instead of elation. God's creation hinged on fixation taught that hate needs no translation and that love kills universally although hate would end us openly. Over me you've made your choice. From under you've snatched my voice once filled with ambitious promise. Skewed your views and bruised the polish granted to untapped potential. For your effort instrumental in incidental, hapless chains that will soon prove consequential, I will slight this mind still rushing.
We're loving this past our limit. Knowledge of right and wrong has nothing to do with it. Homage paid displayed on trays with silver handles... that we've never had to handle. Thank goodness as we mishandle every thing that we toast to. I'm supposed to treat our truths with tact, ignore when you overreact and enjoy in spite of the fact that you've knocked over three bottles worth. Bottles work well when they want to like when I want you and you've no will to decline or like when we chase the silence, an extra bottle is fine or like when we spark the violence and our actions define that of a perfect disaster. I talk but you shout faster. I walk but you run faster. She confronts but he outlasts her and the world notices. All we know is this besides the bottom of the glass and the crash that is yet to be explained. Maintain condition. That pain commissioned to replace a powerless persuasion inclined to that of sober minds so to find room for another campaign for that case of champagne makes these red and gold stains almost completely worth it. Drink until we find perfect.
If I made time to look at your face, I'd tell the truth but all I care to see sits still in this flute. Silhouette yet adorned in soft light so I can't hide from you. Not even on late nights. Flights from common to the rarest of cities. Felt the frost of regret long after hoping you'd come with me. The sun just fills me with reasons to abstain. The bubbles in this glass... they run away from the rain to stain this tray. Figured they'd gain a way to secure their getaway but they lost their vessel.
How have we managed?
Advanced your vantage from meager to militant. Innocent in perception. Favorable dereliction from the norm. Used once as fear from harm to tell the tale of half truths. Another half flute and debate ensues. Conversing I've come to rue: Confirmed again that men are truly demonic creatures with such heavenly features. The staunch teachers of irony. Loathsome, tiring, uninspiring, conventional words bred of the cynical recited in cyclical rhythm as often as the songs taught to toddlers. I find her and request another bottle:
"Miss, stay awhile. I am throttled by my company. Come now. Comfort me. Let me not suffer this alone."
Majesty upon your throne sneering away at me, your assumed vagabond perceived as plotting between your legs and those of the next waitress that smiles. Wiles I've no reason to confirm or beg pardon for if affirmed. Tiles harder to walk across. With every sip, a slip awaits the stumbler. Your slumber my reward. Life is hard. Love ain't easy. That was painful. I am queasy. Found this so easy to drink. Sipping between every blink. Gulp til we don't care to think. Stemware strewn across the sink. Detergent can't wash away anything about we. Hungover for days finding ways to dream about we:
About how it fizzles and tickles when we kiss. About our favorite year. That one bottle we've missed.
About how crazy gets a little lazy when we're drunk. About minds so hazy we locked the keys in the trunk.
About the only way to ensure that we reconvene. About how I'm an asshole for perceiving you as mean.
About time that is better when it is experienced instead of measured. About our blatant obscenities trapped in moistened love letters.
I highly doubt the fact that this is a public conversing will encourage some tact before more yelling and cursing. Blurt in spurts words that the heart should never hear. Asking you to go back home when I still want you near....
Choke the tears back. They make it taste flat and we've paid too much in privacy not to have something of quality.
Wire barbed and my thighs are scarred and my skin is scored and the open pores mark a thirst for more. Torn through flesh to a solid core. I am violent more than I was before. Keeping score? Liked me less when I would talk more but loved me best when I could not best though I would resist and you could desist but you would not cease so I tend to wounds and I seal each crease. Before I heal soon, you would steal my peace.
You don't have the room. Nothing in the least. Time I would not lease So let me speak my piece.
My only demand is that you understand before you rake my hand.
I spent the best days of my life looking for the right people. To be truly honest, I really don't think I like people. Unlike people, I don't square off in an instance for a problem better solved beyond proximity and distance.
So you wonder why I climb high; sliding through the sharp. Not for rainbows, milk and honey or an angel with a harp. They will see me mortified. Teardrops dangling from their eyes at the view of hanging flesh in lieu of covet in distress. Dress this scene. Press it clean. Pull the remnants from my dreams. Nothing left of the obscene. Every rung a truth unseen. Secrets stashed upon this ladder. The latter I've fancied created. Wished for ways to make it easier to vault without impedance and halt. Metal burning scabs like salt. You learned nothing from your fault
but I have earned today regardless of what you will realize
and my eyes are fixed on these jagged,crumbling bricks that break and crack before they fall. Watch me crawl if your heart will allow as I hang from it all and you aim to stall the journey that will surely claim you as next to embark. Destined to rise from the dark since sandcastles in the park
"Warm Sugar" Imagined you breached. Briskly broken. Blissfully burst forth ... from the very first moment that my lips intended to graze. Softer than glaze dancing in ribbons as it twirls about fingertips to land on the tongue. Hung well on promises of the milky. Sweet cream this young. This fresh. This silky This pure. Enduring no process to progress through maturation in the manner nature envisioned.
This is what endears me to you. From your scent to your hue to your texture so complex and intricate and delicate and decadent. The frost left in your wake serves to confirm why I am seething. Perceived somewhat misleading until the day my breathing sweetened the taste of every sigh. Wished for what and wondered why while wanting how to take place here and now. Rubbed you slow against my brow. Felt you quake and tremble. Actions that resemble anticipation from neglect. Starved for one who will not let one single grain escape unclaimed. The lust untamed. I bust the frame. I break it out. I take it out. I let you come. I feed you some. It smears across the teeth. The spell is strung. Sensations sung too loud to be discreet. Every crease a compliment on counters sitting pretty resting wide with eyes and grinning lower lips that whisper "Come And Get Me."
Sitting plain on marble plains where streaks and stains have stated plain that I acknowledge pain with more. Portions of you on the floor still dripping from the handle and I handle the upholstery forcefully for sake of savoring the morsels. What gathers in a pool below to crystallize in viscous flow is drawn from where the kisses go while braids are held beneath torso. Watch it crush and crumble as it tumbles across tonsils. Taste buds tingling in counsel. Lost to wander at the knees. Please. My imagination goes further than fascination. Potent as libation proofed to the next degree like a syrupy sea washing across my sweet tooth tingling to chew all that is you until quivers become numb. Licking lips and sucking thumbs. Sweetest scent filling my lungs. Stole from shame collecting crumbs
and you don't even know........ Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
This traction. Distraction.... ....Palms over awnings. Drawn to the scent relentlessly. Spent after dreams realized through screams so violent that used to vex in silence. I am conscious of what led me. Head swimming in the rapture of it all. Soaked walls with sweat whilst we kept regret at bay.
Today has taken place for what felt like lifetimes before this very instant. Can't afflict while distant. Can't invoke unprovoked. Can't tie the rope. Can't watch you choke so deep the air escapes with fairer drapes to peek through.
Moistened sharps. Torn apart. Peeled you slightly. Let you bite me and pretend to fight me only to ensure disappointment should our bond become disjointed.
You're too sick for we....
So I'm tarnished here and there subsequently Your character haunts me so violently. Shall we overcome? triumphantly.....
Shadowed and shamed through black marrow Rained on with sparrows I can only feel your arrow Piercing my lungs Harder to focus with short breath Your new nest Sits best ; heavy on my chest After this relentlessness I need bed rest, yes.
Mere formality For pageantry that ensues. Imbued with a lust That trust identifies as forsaken. Awakened in full bloom. Away locked in this room. Array that I assume. A way this milky moon Vanishes in our shadow. A zone fit for the shallow. Cracked bones to sip the marrow. Unzipped, Clipped and slashed. Embattled victim. Watched you sulk for savages Nowhere near as ravenous as me. Aimed to ravage. They just feed. My advantage is your need. Rip and ram to spill the seeds. The moon will hide. She cries. We bleed.
Roses growing from concrete. Stiff feet Mere formality Blurry realities I'm back. Up against the wall I won't crack This is clearly a hack Time tested contradictions Unwavering projections life lessons No contestant. I'm looking for a simile to hide the things I really mean But ain't no half stepping when I'm left second guessing.
What remains certain is the temperature. We won't grow old if the blood is cold and the edges crust over time. Sublime that fateful encounter. Fruitful reminder of what surfaces when motive is not disclosed. Clothes stained from exposed membranes I have sought to poke and twist. More fun when you resist and reach for me. Expose your wrists and watch the essence flail. Cascade high then fall like hail Smooth the swing. The slice won't fail. Saw you cry but they can't tell...
You're the best of my worst occurrence. My warmth near the chilly furnace furnished for what dreams can't even think to warn me of. Light from above. You would blind me with love then you'd bind me. Silk gloves. Sitting here cold and nervous. Your perceived purpose concealing your penchant. Pendant your sole lead. I need you and you leave remnants to ensure such. Moments when we touch fill the air with our aroma. I hear our song before long and you impart this persona. This orientation Disorientation. Disturbing joy and grace and I am displaced. Misplaced my disgrace yet I fish for desire. My ire invaluable but malleable in the hands I've only felt once without silk imparted. Charted out this course after intercourse looking forward to our discourse. More to discover but as time hovers, the same is said for these chances that elude me.
You used me.
You use me.
Still.
I would kill to feel. The feeling in my mouth. You filling in my mouth. Me feeling you throughout until I don't think or care to breathe. Silk never slid although sleeves roll up and the sheets fold up and we rest in this zone at our best all alone.
Here I rest all alone.
Drained as my phone is. Deep as the tone when realizing what you take away. Your getaway predetermined. Planned long before arrival. Practiced like recital before an audience anticipating illusion.
Therein lies the simplest confusion.
I seem to aid you. I've made you the greatest escape artist of my love, life and times. You acknowledge I am handsome. I your ransom should light ever seek to reveal. Amid moments in the darkness, you steal whilst I remain still in the thrill of your presence. Enough essence to evade the inquiry over an infatuation that could lead to times that might impart accusations that should've been introductory. Covered in your cloak. Smothered as I choke and my face turns blue but I won't turn you away from me.
Leaving me long before you see where you've misplaced compassion. Your passion less hinged on me when fixed on the energy. Ice cold skin never warm without my touch. Learned as much after your first attempt at trust. Too much to process. Former digression from the initial dereliction that somehow enchants us both.
You won't float unless I'm allowed to swim and I won't drown even when you pull me down and you won't sink for the remnants that I drink and before my last blink, you've taken the time to think to include me in your plans without employing demand. So very far I'd fall. For you, I'd gladly crawl even still as you stand
to walk away.
Even as I say, the truth is that I'll always stay to wait for our next chance to play. But.... How much is left to steal away today?
Mind shut off from the depth of it. Closed eyes from the rest of it just to rest a bit. Just to veer to the left of it as if it never existed. The living is twisted. The fear is smaller now when placed next to discomfort. This is awkward. That was worse but this feels just like the first so I can't tell the difference. Can't yell. Indifference. Can't feel. Indifferent. Can't sell myself on much better. Forgetting until condemned. I wish I'd grabbed his hymn. I'd wish for 2010 again. Thank God that I'm older but I smile less when I'm sober and influence is assumed. String of rooms all to myself and I can't help not sleeping. Steeping in my thoughts by my lonesome. I'm not lonesome. Never lonely. Thoughts. They own me and I've never been a nickel short. Retort met season rather than reason. Not for sake of rationale. More to highlight how I fell or if I've even climbed. More inclined to my heartstrings than I'd like the next to know. Pride I show mistaken for a show of masculinity and offended me would try but the rendered me just dies a little more with explanation. Duration rarely in my favor.. I may toil. I know labor but there is no fruit to savor. I've so little I can show. Encouraged that I still grow but what I know now is deflating. Time negating progression. Obsession with procrastination and confusion. Told illusion is my compass. The compassion scraped from edges like the starving chased by death.
I want no more of this depth. This abyss. Empty kiss cold near the furnace. I can't burn this. I have earned this and I'm too tired to ask why.
The blow. The sigh. The shaking head. Such things are as dead as the hands that implore frustration. Situations where expressed need masks the pungent taste of greed and I don't ask nor do I heed. Just serve the slop and I will feed. Stale nourishment Malnourished shit. Some of it flung against the wall. The texts. The calls. Would eat it all. You need it all to furnish me but this domicile is hollow. Where you would once reside I wallow. If my heart decides, I follow but I'm not much for time. None borrowed.
We're not over yet but I'm over it. Well overdue. Well, over you and I'd go through you with eyes slow to view what I'd hold you to if I only knew
how much it meant for me to care.
That'd be fair, right?
There's cooler air most nights. I sometimes fear how I would fare out there in my rocking chair. Body riddled with stress. Skin as wrinkled as regrets I've thrown away after they were written. According to who you ask, not so much of me is hidden so if certain things reveal all of what I truly feel, maybe then some of that solace can replace an empty promise or two. Hopefully a few. The harsh exist for purpose even when lost and nervous. Uncertainty the adversary. The scene obscene. The setting scary. Hands clasped beneath the clothes. Memories we both impose. Ringing words hang in ear lobes. Mind wide open Eyes still closed.
And who will write their words? Speak into existence all the sentences that air heard.
Pardon me.
While I'm here snacking on hors d'oeuvres, they're asking for orders. Molotov and torch heard. Was taking my orders but now the check is on the counter and the apron on the floor. They are kicking in the door. They were denied something more. Never owners of our stores. One of many excuses used to substantiate abuses they have suffered in a blatant sense. Another decrease in numbers. No wonder we're tense and I've been latent since my last recollection of that run in. Woman across from me and I don't know her name. Another ounce of words I can't pronounce. Expensive champagne. Things weren't this strange until it felt this strange to see how much time changed. Their throats slit and blood stained
and who will write their words? Speak into existence all the sentences that air heard but where birds fly, I've seldom seen a bullet.
Could fix my fortune on portion but I might still pursue it in manners they don't peruse. Their challenge is in the news. Biased political views from those wearing the shoes that have yet to frequent chalk. No walks amongst caution tape without camera. Handle you by handing you preparation like lyrics from ghostwriting. Talk more and more about the fighting, rioting, pillaging, burning of buildings but less about the reason why. There is a shelf life in media. Soon to be update on Wikipedia when my people die.
My people.
I watch the hate in their eyes when I can't relate as if I'm trying to be down. How I never come around. How I never thought to visit. Life outside of city limits. My progress seen as a gimmick My success washed over images of those my age that cry over those my age that try but before that cage would pry, most of those my age would die and not nearly enough of it was circumstantial. That trip back to where I once was I thought to cancel. Found no reason to travel miles just for rejection. Especially over the misconception that I wouldn't need protection. Entourage econolodged. Driver took a day. Made it here with no delay. They all have so much to say.
I know it's hard but who truly stands to record?
I'm still wondering:
Who will write their words? Speak into existence all the sentences that air heard.
More bullets than birds.
Blood curdles and boils. Battering rams at doors. The scratches of open sores. Profusion through open pores. They try to even the score but no one cares to count. The alive count five or six a day but that delay in the broadcast is an attempt to watch them fall fast under criticism. News for the country but something stale in journalism. Church bells are rung and then the time comes to negotiate over the fate of killers protected by those willing to deliberate. Orchestrate some denial and polish it up as progress. Attend a senseless trial and fish for some due process to stave the reprimand. Our blood still on his hands A gun placed in the hand of the young man who was unarmed. Not charmed by their wiles or their rhetoric. Fight to take away our pride but quick to call us heretics. Selective embellishment as long as our culture is defined as entertainment for the times. Pockets lined from the maligned but the militant intimidate. Their mandate exclusive. All inclusive in their targets. Strange their fruit you used to harvest. Flung my cufflinks. Tossed my shirt. Parked my sedan. Off from work. Took this trip all by my lonesome. Thought I came here for the wholesome but I've walked into this war. Cops that spar with the defenseless. Night stick. Gun butt. Beat us senseless. Place cross hairs against our brows. Frame us later. Kill us now.
I know now and I've been writing. Witnessed riots. Saw the fighting. Knew what media would cover. Social mediums discovered ways to apply new restrictions. Threat with sanctions. Tease conviction. Hide description under race. Only show the victim's face after the suspect is secured. I am intrigued. I am lured. I invest time in the unknown. I was silent. I have outgrown.
You won't like me. I am concrete. You cheap leather. You will not spite me. You don't compete. You know better.
The people you have slain live on further in my brain for my heart cannot contain it all without a call to have knowledge applied to supplement and reside next to violence so consequential. I may not condone it but I certainly will own it and while others phone it in, I'll just pick up this pen
and bring to the surface what the air already knew.
You'll kick start from what the mountain do. Fresh flesh quivers before mounts of dew that I will deliver like the mystic river. Giver of pain. Never could refrain. Ledger of pleasure. I will not abstain so lose your brain while you leave some stains. Give you piece of mind. Take a piece of mine Taste and take my time Eat it from behind. Open like wet pores. Garments on the floor. Wide open doors so they hear your screams whilst I lick you clean.
Got me
Feeling Under Crevices. Kicking Massive Energy.
Face still in it. Let me finish. Ignore grimace. Grind through limits as I run my laps neck just trapped between sensation and thrill. Have my fill then give you a taste. Wet like honey. Paste my face. Silk and lace. Squirm in place. Adjust position. You do not understand ambition So I overstate and I over-ate and it's getting late and I'm getting big so I slob and spit where my fingers slid
so I can start
Feeling Under Crevices. Kicking Massive Energy.
Fortune favored more than luck Fortune for no zippers stuck Unzip. Untuck. Found nips you've tucked. Round nips to suck. Buttons you pluck. Tip kissed then sucked. Head well, untamed. Head swells from games. Head game complex. Rhythm complicated but you maturate it. You saturate it. Sides saturated. Lips locked. Elated. Too much excitement. I won't fight it. Please don't bite it. Can't keep quiet and won't keep still. Mind, mouth and throat. You take your fill. Across tonsils you let me spill
as I imagine
Feeling Under Crevices. Kicking Massive Energy.
No hands in. Tongue dancing. Lips dampened. I cast in and then draw out. All out and all for it. Call for it. Crawl toward it. Can't afford it. Something priceless. Of all my vices, I'll never fight this warmth surrounding intensive strength. Strokes of girth and extensive length. Punch the passion til purple-pink. Hear the tears and I feel your blinks before eye contact where I give you some then I take it back and you rake my back then you take it back and I wring your hair and you hold it there and we stop and stare and we need some air but we ignore need when our want is need and we want to feed thoughts that curse and plead
Way too dark. Can't see the thoughts. I'm not elated. Just lost.
Impressed by your precision. Distressed by your decisions. Obsession tossed around and dragged across the ground. Far from home throne supposedly fortified with cobblestone and blacktop until the top is black so you can hop back into comfort and hang up your pretentiousness. Eyes wide open but can't find anything in front of me. Conveniently confronting me on my perceived indifference. Diligence to preserve innocence while persecuting those who will not join in the arms race. Your pace cut. Copied. Pasted. Wasted on the trend of the month. A front to mask your appearance. Clearance for any notion that you just might like the potion you accuse the world of drinking.
I stand still but I'm thinking. Hands in front of me. Finger feelers searching for the filler in your well placed appeal. Strategic soapbox stance. Employing the trance and threatening the lonesome thinkers. Tinker with the facts until it looks more like opinion. Spite the masses. Organize the minions to serve master in malice and carry out more of the tragic acts that should lead to a magic solution.
The Establishment Cannot Condemn The Institution.
Don't know the time. Searching for light. You don't want a fight. You'll be here tonight and I know. It can be taxing waxing militant about ignorance until asked about real world news. Paid dues in desecrated discipline. Adrenaline laced pace charged by selective media you purport across selected mediums where the keys smoke faster than the barrel. Times that travel with the spark behind the scenes and in the dark. A pool of sharks starved for chum and here we come: The vilified led in the late to await the murky waters. Found it harder to swim at night. Can't get right or get away. Not again. Not today. Cussed at if we walk away by activists of today that will not buy a ticket or picket, assemble, organize, occupy or die tomorrow for what the same sunlight suicide crusade that they raved about two days ago.
Way too dark Can't see your fist but graze my chin and say I tripped if asked how the stagnant tumbled. Bastards to the belligerent bastion. Factions cloaked concealing daggers. Waving. Raving. Belting out the boisterous chatter. Swinging rifles after trial. Burning buildings after verdict. Lord knows something serves a purpose. Lord knows you're less angry than nervous. Under pressure self implied. Switch maneuvers. Exercise. Pressed for diamonds. Futile goals when pressed for time to crack the coals and over time, it should've changed but after hours look the same.
Certain hours. Curtain powers. Cyberspace. Inbox then inside the space. Square pegs between the legs. Earlier? Liquor and kegs. Before that? Skim through the facts, plan to react and stab us when we trim the fat. Toss reason in the vat and boil it brown. Add revolution. Tear it down. Make sure it drowns in each batch. Whenever we break the latch or find a way to break the seal, your soul reveals no tolerance. Common sense the rarest deal. Anarchy on eighty proof. So many sips. You puke the truth. Extend recollection. Examine direction. Don't question my digestion while seated in the crowded section where the nose bleeds and they throw seeds at passersby who won't watch the game. Claimed and you don't know my name. Assumption the sharpened blade. You will swing and slice in light but will you vex under the shade?
Way too dark. That's why I stand still. Way too much. That's why I chill and just because I'm drifting, don't think your anger is uplifting. You are not the rise of man. You are warm milk and ceiling fan.
Our colors are a little cloudy. Very dusty. Somewhat faded. Not much luster mustered from the same sunlight that once bounced off of your hair before washing over your fairer hue.
We don't talk much anymore but I feel your tone like that of a daily conversing. Unnerving how concerning I become when we do interact I'm sure but I feel the need to ensure that you are better than okay.
Been away for years. Had our share of tears. Things we have yet find some humor in, honestly. Promised we our daughters the richest portion of our rainbow but as far as rain goes, we've no clouds left to offer.
From sought to fought, the thought that only one lost is a lie the heart cannot profess. Bright red over stress and tension. Not to mention what it looks like when you look right and I see no wrong in admiration.
Consistent fascination even to this day. Words hidden in stanzas I'll likely never say even if the chance was earned. Dedicated pages of phrases to my fume and fancy of you from our large umbrella to polka dots, jeans and boots to pink passion fruit as sweet in memory as it was that night in November.
Wrote to remember the touch. Recall the blush. Relive the rush. Moments we'd frequent before it all was hushed. The longest lasting thrill before the moistened chill of black that spilled like ink with streaks of grey across my kitchen sink.
I think and it all returns. Every twist and turn. Every lesson learned and every roundabout but well without solution like pollution to my better wishes.
Your hips and tone in switches. All of your favorite dishes. Salt and Pepper tomato business and allergies to certain fishes.
Hell this must be.
Left so much we on the table that the world must wonder what would've transpired.
Before scratches and rust, Gloss replaced the dust and we would shimmer with every kiss.
Once heard that with every glimmer of something new, there will be a shade or two on which the mind will rotate to that which only ever lasts in the past.
Now that time has passed, the best of our colors serve to display our mixture in a fixture as permanent as that picture.
Handle my colors with care and I will remain there.
Definitive deconstruction. Roundabout collision. My position as confusing as the religion of the suicidal. Pressure tidal so I hold tight and fast to that which might last only as long as this reflection. Detection of inflection. Per notice of my motives, I may need protection. I hear them speak but do they ever listen? When I shine and glisten, do I seem dull? When I withhold a little, can they peer into my skull and see what I would like to say? I try to hide away. Cover it all but familiarity has stained these walls and the sponge is dingy.
Floor beneath my feet flimsy. Ceiling less appealing revealing the opportunity to fail. Small cracks and it is frail. The only enduring constant in this hour are visible reminders of just how much power I never really had.
At one point, I was glad.
I smiled to cope in hope of turning the page. I tied the ropes in knots that resembled the rage that I kept far from my disposition. My position still undecided. Love unrequited I've offered to the furnace. Favor so well furnished that time would have it burn slow just to make sure that I know that some things are worth salvaging.
Life lines these inner cavities. Cavalry of ghosts that used to kick down doors. Evidence of thoughts that intermingled with the floor. Dust trapped feelings that lay strong against the ceiling and four listless sides that will impart no healing.
Head in the corner. Shoulders between ridges. Eyes on the former link between bridges. Bridges in turn I have burned in elation. Now their remnants and this room have relation.
Freely the paint chips that rubs against my neck. It takes me on trips and keeps me looking back. Chips become chunks. Dirty smudges on my knuckles. No semblance of support for when my knees would buckle.
Chuckles seep through the cracks...
I ask "What's Funny?!" but they just run from me. No retort. Never talking back. Perceived that tales of frustration would illicit conversation. Instead, every breach fills me with consternation.
Creaks in the crevices. Air between toes but no sunlight in areas where darkness won't disclose all that erodes eventually. Contingency the blades that have yet to come down. I have drowned in anticipation. Fixation upon fixtures that try to uphold the integrity of a place lacking so much more.
Each break like open pores and tears offer no sufficient moisture.
Fortress of forfeiture no more fortified than the eyes that have kept it somewhat together. Well wishes in the form of fairer weather. A norm this place knew rarely. The blades spin on an angle. They dance. They flail. They dangle. Glowing angels that come to haunt me. They taunt me with the truth. Around my neck the noose that three of four expected. Each of the four neglected to reach out with my back facing them. I can only trace them as high as the cries they have collected. Unprotected by foundation or the cover that hovers, I, the lover of the last will claim refuge in the crash and the rubble. Called me humble. Called me meek. Four in silence finally speak when no one else is around to observe where voices leak. No more favor I should seek. No one else will hear the sounds when from years above the ground all that surrounds starts falling down. After a boom louder than gavels, over time the voices travel from foundation to the mantle.
Lead with the lie with the tears that you've cried with eyes puffy and dried with the comfort you need with these colors that bleed.
Air I swear I can't breathe.
Left me there and I leave. Left me spinning. I heave and I'm dizzy. I'm sickly but call me and I'm busy.
I promise no knowledge.
Against all insistence, you fed your persistence and led the resistance. You fought me relentless
only to fling your armor far across the harbor. Dead weight under water. Depth the only charmer
but I want to breathe.
Surpassed the submerged with no urge to survive. Preserved in the dirge of what never could thrive.
Not alive. Not to rive and wallow. Nothing there to swallow when at best it was hollow.
Against my advisement, you sever the ties with the clouds in your eyes with decisions that bind with precision and time with no fear that you'll find
that which you support knowingly.
Knowing me won't make it better and showing me may take forever when I can't see.
See:
Everything is red from everything we've said now everything is dead yet I drown above the ocean.
Emotions ever present. The refreshing, effervescent expectations smell so stale. Long terms of short scale inhaled and regurgitated. Heard we made it. We are facade. Nervous ways that we stave the rod. The careful call of calamity. This endless cycle a tragedy. Drag for me and I keep the dirt and when trading places, I keep the hurt
and we love to flirt with those imperfections but shine the light and we shun reflection. Swift dereliction. Some sacrifice. Took in the poison. It smells so nice and I start to choke. Can't feel the clouds. Can't see the smoke. Can't create logic. Far out of socket. So out of pocket. Swollen and toxic.
I...................... ....... I can't breathe.
Maintain verse. These chains around my trachea. You say "If pain hurts, then why smile when you're spanking her?" I protest. You throw tests and tighten rope. You know best. I show less than those provoked. You will see me fluctuate in colors before you understand that you need not suspend and hover to gain the upper hand. Other than, otherwise and another way, you advise what you despise then the look the other way
but I know the truth: whether judged as saint or sinner, time you've concealed will soon reveal that your air is getting thinner........
Promise I nothing. Divine to find something under the layers of drifters searching like sifters as if it would chip the pavement. Came with ambition but no actual mission. Just word play and emissions. The buy time tradition held in high regard when things get hard.
Promise I next to... .....very much near to the point where it all around you steers clear of existence. That persistence in your stroll. Facets of control you have all but begged me for. Lay upon me like bare floors: hard, bare and cold. Deep cover the lonesome hover of nightly positioning. Glass broken and glistening. Decorative, desolate shrapnel. Moments you've tackled the hassle of wondering how they got there and in the air. and in your hair so greasy. Larger shards removed freely. Smaller crumbs discovered in leisure. Concrete erupts in seizures to incur the upheaval of housing. Lounging. Parlay. Scrounging about the brainstorm. Sudden thoughts upon temporary norms and form will not take until evening breaks the sun into sections.
Promise I forever that never is more commonplace. There's the chase and the race for a taste and its all fun. The lead pipe. The handgun. The one near the end of suffering and he who will come to know it soon after blowing it upon that which still knows no sift.
So let them drift.
The least of worthwhile gifts invoking some form of commemoration. Cold World with few warm situations. Such a frigid life. If not for strife, recreation would lack luster. Hush her. Rush him. Touch them and be we who can't relate and will not relent. Consent of deliberately blind eyes that cry somehow when what was planned now is still more how than one who now mingles with the gutter where butter was a bonus and the best bread was stale to the wounded and frail but so few could tell given their desire driven grit much to the chagrin of pompous, manufactured wit.
So,
What solace accompanies this observation?
Promised I over years. Promise I won't forget. Promised eyes shut to open ears:
