"Differential Diagnosis"
Threw the pills into the ocean.
They'll dissolve before they reach the shore.
I'm always prescribed a little more.
They say my thoughts are impure
so they won't call them emotions.
Sought help from a contortionist.
Taught me how to channel
my feelings into movement.
Imagine what my mind moves with……
I was made to sit still,
ignore thrill and embrace silence.
"Your brand of movement may bring violence."
I never understood that theory.
Near me you would stay
even in my darkest days.
I found a little triumph
in my ability to trace your voice
in a lineup when I never knew your name.
Once I finally learned,
it was all I was concerned
with uttering to the shrink.
Would hate to even blink
When your presence filled the room.
What I would often think
would consume my faculties whole.
Surrendered total control
to all of those completely…………
Wonderful
Nasty
Grotesque
Disgusting
Delicious
Filthy
Sticky
Moist
Obscene daydreams that we enact
frequently in my mind.
The medication would keep all at bay
except what I chased every day.
Words I would say in examination……
routine dissertation for therapists
who cared less about therapy
and more about what's scaring me.
I pique their interest. I am intrigue.
They roll up their sleeves
and feed me their colored capsules.
Encapsulated in this beating drum
like painkillers under the tongue
are my treasured thoughts of you.
Nothing else can ever subdue
my instability like you.
They took you away from me.
Some mistakes are not forgiven.
Listen.
Clarity is a state of being
that I am unfamiliar with.
Rich the fervor of my will.
Would kill for our yesterdays.
Don't ask what I've done today.
Bottles in the lake.
Fake refills. The overkill.
Freedom did not grace me
once I stepped beyond those walls.
My familiar call
brought no beckon of you.
I need my tranquility.
I lack the stability
to peruse this twisting path.
Wrath of circumstance omnipresent.
True quintessence unattainable.
Perhaps I am not sustainable
in my present state
but in good faith,
I would move through life this hazy
even if I'm perceived crazy.
Save Me.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Canvas"
I'll tell you when I'm finished.
Fancy me that drop of ink
landing in your glass of water.
I await as you engorge me whole.
Go on. Take control.
Taste me completely.
Run me through your veins
like restraint is but a fairy tale.
Trails of my presence etched
like blotches on the surface.
Your purpose a mystery to this world.
Toes curled in rapture and elation
as you capture the sensation
that eludes you still.
Drapes ripped from window sills
are cast aside with your regret.
Fret not.
I'm never swift in my action.
More demonstrative in fashions
relative to your reaction to me.
Through me you labor in your lust;
trusting that our fruit is plentiful.
So whimsical your faith in me.
You leave a taste for me
and expect the clean slate to ensue
but I've already told you:
I'll Tell You When I'm Finished.
Time will never diminish.
Your first mistake your endless chore:
thinking that you gave me more
when it chose to stand still.
Raised your limbs across the heavens
and rested them within the hills
so that the river runs seamless.
Seemed less raging in your waters
than when you stood there in your puddle.
I cupped my hands ever so subtle
and drank in every faint gasp
as if poured from a carafe
and you would serve me in earnest.
Embarrassment left your demeanor.
No longer concerned about the cleaner
thoughts that would mess with your head.
Instead,
You make way for all the filthy
ways I made you feel so guilty
when I never really stopped to think.
Barely could recall one wink.
Sinking deep into your bliss.
Murky waters. The abyss.
Imploring that I assist
as if I'd let you resist
Took your risk and planned it daily.
Think you've got them but you're sailing;
trailing what you crave in confidence.
Forced to behave with your compliments.
Your drive written in your countenance.
Surely smitten in accomplishment:
You can now say that you've had me……
……if not for that ceaseless nagging……
……telling you that you want more.
Clawing away at your core.
Seething deep into your pores
until I bring you ashore.
Nevermore before my sight.
You the junkie. I your plight.
I thought we'd call it a night
but before I could reach the light,
You stared me down
drenched in what would be our blemish.
A deviant smile replaced your frown:
"I'll Tell You When I'm Finished."
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Still Water"
God bless the day
that you decide to hate me.
Forsake me if you must.
That may be what it takes.
Await the day that I concede;
crushed under what you perceive
but my mass is substantial.
Means so mechanical surround me.
In their convenience manufactured,
they are undoubtedly drowning;
frowning for their fawn and greed.
Their lust disguised as need.
I am as amorphous as you
but we differ in ambition.
Tradition lost on days that pass.
Your self worth like blades of grass
swept up by the wind.
Careless in you skip and grin.
No true account from deep within
yet you only seek my council
when the tide looks to subside.
Nothing more that I can offer.
Gone are the warning signs.
No refuge in my design.
Just tranquility. Less affinity
granted to the quiet force
standing as the likely source
of what the ignorant fear implicitly.
I am consistency.
You view me in a wrought face
until I crash and displace
with violent beauty and grace
unheard of among your leaders.
Nonbelievers in their rank
that tell you to walk the plank
without your oxygen tank.
They know what you never ask.
Freedom flushed within the flask.
Habit taught you how to sigh
while you roll and close your eyes.
They will wince in pain
until sight barely remains.
Stains ingrained will only stay
long enough to wash away
beneath my regal judgement.
Blemish will seek refuge
but sanctuary will forsake her.
I am not your savior.
I am omnipresent.
I am the true essence
of existence in raw form.
I age within the storm
but have not sought harm for years.
You have given me your tears
and I have absorbed your struggle
all while addressing your trouble.
Realize what I have offered.
You taint me when you slaughter
and trust that all will wash away.
Be it at the bay
or further than distance and vision
I will display what God envisioned:
Power steeped in preservation
resting well before whole nations
who wait for something to acknowledge.
Pay homage.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Charity Stripes"
To tell the truth
I would have to lie to fantasy.
There are few correlations
between fallacy and reality.
Fantasy the lead supplier
for liars and protectors.
Projectors disclose the chosen
after the full picture is broken;
strategically separated into fragments
one would presume the rest could palate.
The common source of habit and repetition
where we must decide on a vision
among options that should be more than this.
This cannot be all that exists.
Persistence is relative in ownership.
Create the right to keep away.
Believe the right to speak and say
with no true knowledge of ramification.
Treat propaganda like incantation
and the flock will lead the herd.
Trained to forget what you heard
if there is meaning to the words.
To tell the truth
I would live within the cross hairs.
Prepared for the despair
that comes with trying to repair
the impaired among me.
Those before me hung high
for our right to cry
when venting usual frustrations
over a consistent state of affairs
where we only really care
to reciprocate long winded conviction
amid the chance for contrition.
Affliction akin to patients
sealed and padded without patience
breaking teeth on their restraints
just to create some new complaints.
Heaven forbid the jagged edge.
They would score their skin deep.
God forbid the crumbling ledge.
They've been known to take the leap.
Pledge Allegiance To Manipulative Defiance.
This Is Science.
Profit from pink ribbons
and forget about breast cancer.
Give out tee shirts at the walk.
Endear them all to the enchanter.
Tell us we have advanced.
Ask us to take a chance.
Your noxious influence systemic
but there is no cure in your clinic.
In those vials a million trials.
Only some results disclosed.
Wouldn't dare think to expose
what likely exists in droves
Much Like Those Left To Die In Africa.
The vernacular imposed has grown stale.
So frail you seem in appearance
when suggesting clearance after discovery.
You have yet to discover me.
I number in the millions
and stand before you in need of healing
but you would rather pad my feelings.
Well,
I feel like there is more.
Don't complain about the chore
when I ask what is in store.
So much more of my currency
but no breakthrough currently.
Just lots of "Steady Progression."
My anger you perceive as aimless obsession
when I refuse to employ concession.
I feel like being cured.
Your progression just hurts me.
My daughter was raped.
Where Is Her Cure For Herpes?
I feel so impure.
Your digression is disturbing.
My homeland is dying.
Does The Vaccine Exist? What Profit Are You Earning?
What are you learning?
Questions are still burning
in this churning gut of mine.
My Mother Is Running Out Of Time.
These donations feel like fines.
Research labor undefined
and I'm out here running miles
just for you to run some trials?
To tell the truth,
you must reclaim this fallacy I see
and destroy the imposed fantasy to be
But I'm Sure You Won't Take That From Me.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Blackout Part 6: Requiem"
This will be very exciting.
Said the same thing
when we first met.
First fret over when we would reach
the last day before increased distance.
First sweat dripping from the brow.
We share similar nights now.
First set of diamond encrusted whatever
as long as we stay together.
My desperation much more implicit then.
I consistently remember when
trapped within back then.
Back when the pain was pleasurable
and we broke skin to find treasures
buried deep beneath the layers.
Prayers for our indecent display.
Dismay on the faces of the concerned.
Images still burned into minds.
Days never as far behind
as one would think they should be.
Should we take alternate routes?
If asked about your whereabouts,
I might relinquish the truth.
Can't explain this stained suit.
Truth will tell you of my obsession.
Transgression no sufficient threat
so I chose to make you sweat.
Are you excited yet?
I bet.
If only you could get behind
but you recline against my mind instead.
You said you let go.
I know.
Didn't listen, though.
You just couldn't show
what I refused to throw away.
Such an eventful day……
I thought you'd pack light.
Now I'm forced to pack heavy.
Steady my intent upon unstable foundation.
For what this may concern,
we deserve their indignation.
We have earned ourselves an urn.
My best stab at alliteration.
God in Heaven watched us try.
We struggled just to thrive
after burying the past alive.
Blunt reminders spread like hives.
Crawling under skin.
Blood running thin
clotted in between flesh
and these fresh fabrications.
Libation amplifies the rapture.
Capture half yoked while sober.
Took you where the air gets colder
and visitors seldom tread.
Remember what you said?
I recall every single phrase.
The haze enough to leave me faint.
You would taint my thoughts in lecture
but conjecture is of no use here.
Dear sweet complete with lifeless trimming.
The beginning certainly more vibrant
than what you're adorned in today.
Crimson and cream your last display.
The sky gray in culmination
of one last sudden sensation
and I can hardly contain it anymore.
Before we are found,
life will drown in oceans of fire.
We must retire in good time.
I couldn't erase all the lines.
Honest excitement in your countenance.
You almost appear somewhat contrived.
Frail and pale you lay atop this heap.
Calm yourself and fall asleep.
I will follow close behind.
I promised never to back out.
You are the light I'll never find
so we'll both embrace the blackout.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Blackout Part 5: Ownership"
Left to recall times
when it was all so amazing.
I feel it fading.
It lingers in feint reminder
of what only exists to prove
that its existence is truly futile.
Feudal our favored approach.
After all, what difference does property
uphold to souls sought in propriety?
Wherein do we not resemble society?
High time to keep up with them.
Steeped in troubles of the world
that we swore to exclusivity.
Are you kidding me?
None of this is normal.
Less of it is formal, granted
but a love we deem heavy handed
was never far from the standard
so I don't blame you.
Who will tame you?
Names you exclaim
that incite no beckon of me
yet you confide in me.
Threads you don't really want
intermingle with your grasp.
With every gasp, the fight grows ever so pointless.
Who wants who?
Who wants to?
Who needs this?
Ran the risk years behind
but our hindsight is all about face
and the beliefs couldn't be more contradictory.
Lost as we are, I won't blame we.
You fill me.
You feel me with time passing.
We always crash into that moment.
Two twin beds no match for that floor.
Creaking door cracked where care escaped.
No comforter.
No sheet.
Not even a drape to mask our debauchery.
I your only cape. My conquest bent before me.
You fill we.
Commands sharp and stern
concerned with precision
that of scalpels upon first incision.
What is riled in division
we compiled into this mission.
Pushed back to tug forward.
Lunged forth to the brink of pulsation.
Repeated fits of elation between us.
If only the world could've seen us…………
You feel we.
Twice that night and never again.
Cumbersome love.
Awkward friends.
Exceptional when guided by lust, though
and I don't blame you.
Who could blame me?
This is the same we
sworn to follow where feelings wander.
Lord knows where the mind gave up.
We stick it in to pull it back out.
We were bound to black out eventually.
Sensual the ability used to mask fault lines
etched deeper than chalk chiseled though concrete.
All that appeared complete was our implosion.
Present one who would dare
find fault among the chosen.
I still pretend as if
that manner of judgment doesn't exist.
I persist in mockery of we:
Celebration of the past,
preconceived punishments we've cast,
dreams that always seem to last
and threats to those looking to dash
but no chance to hash it out at last
So I can't possibly blame you
lest I am ready to blame myself
and I am far from willing.
Time not half as unforgiving
as the mind never forgetting
what brings us back to that night.
I even chose to whisper your name
in moments where I came all the same.
Shame my presumed belonging
yet I'm longing to be shackled;
bound before the bawl and cackle
of a life that bore our story.
Place me in your inventory.
Shelve me close within your reach.
Share our secrets or just keep
them long enough for all to breach.
This is all that I beseech.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Blackout Part 4: Prey"
He hovers over you.
He circles your path.
Your bird of prey drawing closer
with each passing day.
In your weaker days,
your cough would whet his palate.
The sight of you getting queasy
over thoughts that come so easy
certainly must make you appetizing.
What would be more enticing
than that agonizing fear?
Paralyzed between your tears
and the years you often recall.
Somewhat appalled you may appear
when recounting all those battles.
You: picked over like cattle
days after impending slaughter.
Farther into the further of your contempt.
Yet you tarry with your gimp
until you can barely limp away.
One would perceive it simply
as dire gluttony concealed
but there are familiar patterns
that have plotted out your will.
You pretend to starve and black out
until the night is drawn back out
but to your unforeseen dismay,
your bird of prey won't wait all day
just for mere pecks at night
and in the eyesight of your pledge,
he looks down from his ledge
but won't acknowledge that I'm near.
His grave indifferent deeds
to substantiate his needs
will be his thoughtless sacrifice.
This heart that would melt ice
has become as cold as stone.
You exalt me high
upon this bench you call a throne
until you are left alone.
Gone are the musings of enchantment.
Our light cannot withstand the current.
Darkness is our deterrent
and the stage I will perform on.
Costly your encouragement.
Punishment in waves.
I WILL NOT behave.
Lord knows I won't stave
a moment's chance to bend this staff
crafted from the affectionate lies
I have become so dependent upon.
You will lead him on.
You will goad him.
You will lure.
You will make absolutely sure
that my swing won't be in vain.
Your consolation every stain
blotched upon this blunt weapon.
I will teach no lesson.
His scream will reach the heavens
but salvation is not his to claim.
I will maim.
He will hear my name
and remain perched. Never afloat.
Your buzzard will not provoke
or I will surely own his throat.
Throw those apologies away.
Reserve words you've longed to say.
Make it plain as I give way.
Make sense of the choice to stay.
Be forewarned should you delay:
keep in mind what I'll display
and if we ever see that day,
all you can really do is pray.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Blackout Part 3: Nightmares"
I hear never ending jeers.
My subconscious harassed by your existence.
Memories consistent with a marred past
persistent in their unruly haunting.
Sleep eludes me nightly.
Truly a daunting task
comparable to that of an alcoholic
struggling to empty out the flask.
What lasts I struggle with often.
You pace back and forth in my mind;
waiting for the chance to lash out
should I ever look to blackout.
Never thought we both would rue the day
that I decided not to stay.
Minutes wasted in delay
now impede my getaway.
Suffice it to say,
I knew the dreams would follow me.
Hollow me, in desperate need of filler.
My killer willing to supply.
Gentle these deadly thoughts
wrought in mockery of us……
trust traced in your silhouette
warped whenever eyes are wet.
Distorted vision.
Admission exclusively for me.
WHY WON'T YOU LET ME BE?!?!
Let me mourn peacefully in my slumber.
My choice perceived as blunder
by those remaining at the surface.
Your purpose never more apparent to me.
I can see and wish I couldn't.
Wouldn't matter to you.
That listless expression in your face…
Today's grace, tomorrow's nightmare
and a bleeding heart trapped between.
Keen my recollection of the scene:
Dimly lit hall.
Your heels poke holes in my jeans.
My favorite pair.
My dirty hair.
Your complexion always fair.
I sit and stare at the stairs.
One would presume I just don't care
but my heartstrings begin to show.
Nonetheless, I whisper "Go."
Time never moved so slow before now…
The lasting image my memory touts
is of you leaving out.
I want to shout but nothing comes out.
I am frozen in that stare.
The glare that one light bulb
can give entire hallway……
When you move, you walk away
but it feels like days
before you reach the staircase.
Disgust smeared on your face
when you decide to look back.
Some nights I hope you reach the stairs.
Other nights I fancy you walking back.
Either way, I seek an end
to this image etched in my brain.
I draw some solace from the pain.
Although my faculties are drained
and I have no reason to want you,
my mind flaunts you before me.
Adorned in that which was our last day,
your display remains to this day
amid your incessant jeers
and these unrelenting tears
I've been choking back for years.
Light will only appear to illuminate my fear.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Blackout Part 2: Indifference"
I used to imagine often
that you struck those poses for me.
Glasses at the bridge of your nose,
the way you fit your clothes,
even the color of your toes.
It was all perfect to see;
but the objection in my eyes
makes you seem worthless to me.
Now I know: It's not fair.
You're still a person to me
but if misread for what is said,
don't take this personally.
I'm not this person you see.
More than a little recluse.
Not keen on recounting trials.
Forgot most of the abuse.
So why don't we call a truce?
Don't be so rude. Stay awhile.
Let's put this tension to use!
Why wouldn't I share the vial?!
How dare you be so helpless?!
These are OUR tears!
How dare I be so selfish?!
These are OUR fears!
Every jeer soaked in conviction.
Our possessions.
If we lent life no contradiction,
how would we ever learn these lessons?
Wouldn't learn how to share.
No real urge towards care.
No true desire to be there.
Not one worry to spare.
Sorry would be so fitting
for one inclined to forgiving
reclined full tilt on the willing
who try their hand at forgetting
the times when words used to lash out.
Every fight was a sad bout
of insults until one backs out
or both swing into blackout.
I'm back out and far away.
Today.
I doubt tomorrow will change me.
Left your sorrow somewhere dangling:
hanging from the rafters
that once amplified your laughter
only a few moments after
it all fell straight to the ground.
I won't grab a stitch.
Won't remove a fiber.
The need does not exist.
Emotion is retired
along with the ambition,
the desire to be forgiven,
and any ounce of time given.
No past risen from the ashes.
Gashes under skin heal within
or just remain forever.
Pull yourself together.
or whatever.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Blackout Part 1: Residual"
Fruit from the vine
plucked after setting it ablaze.
Not phased by this wine
and it's scorched notes so heavy.
I'm forever ready
but can't even pace myself.
Not for sake of lost control.
Just constriction in my role.
Slow roll offers conniptions for commitment,
some restrictions I can't get with,
lustful thoughts I lay here sick with
and no perfect setting to ask why.
Diverted eyes away for moments
but made time to take a glance.
Glance by my fixed definition.
More like staring in contradiction.
Diction my explicit act
When I want that old thing back.
I would write until I pass out
and daydream until I black out.
Responsible for what I say in confidence.
Compliments while endearing to the past
earn a leering from the present.
Presented with opportunity.
Once unity forlorn and torn
into chunks of fast melting confection
by those scorned for sake of affection
have become sought after connection.
I have to watch what I tell you
because lord knows I'm a bad habit.
Had it in the worst way on the wrong days
but it was the very best in awhile.
Just wait for the street lights.
Nights like this with wrists so weary…
bound by exhaustion, overworked often,
won't be long before snoring.
Time worth exploring thoughts
we never had to speak.
Tension peaks to serve purpose.
Bright becomes dim after limbs stretch.
Time stamps stressed in importance.
Before this, we would never cross paths.
I still sometimes wonder if it's too much.
Too much to ask of my eyes
closed thinking about thighs
no longer my own……………
…………ask about how you're living.
Not if I'm forgiven.
Just some time to reminisce
is all I need to give in
and you plant them carefully.
Those subliminal seeds.
You strike a pose to curl my toes
and give me what I think I need.
You don't care about what I want.
Daunting when you flaunt
and place it all before me;
nearly inviting me to address you openly.
Act like you don't know
and I'll show you a little.
Play around until I frown.
Hands down.
Lower.
Imagine my strength within your grasp.
Clasp crossed legs like big business.
Penciled in this meeting.
Greeting an existence that I tried
so hard to see as grotesque
when I fantasize of you at best.
Fresh the flavor of your flesh.
Between yawns we disappear
until we know the coast is clear.
Kept no vast account of fear.
Secrecy runs far and near.
Sought after this much for years.
Tears we've cried diluted pride
and our will to confide in others.
Full of old feelings left to smother us.
Violently choking on it all.
Guilt to the hilt.
Playing with the blade
under the wiles of nightly shade.
We come in waves to overwhelm
as if blatant at the helm
casting all we stand to lose
to the floor next to the shoes.
Nights this busy.
Agenda unspeakable
when addressing the unreachable.
Seemingly, at least.
On bouts of confidence we feast.
We decide if this will cease.
Quite refined yet savage beasts
dashing peace in search of piece……
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Autumn Drapes"
You never seem this open in person.
My mystery pronounced intrigue.
Deceived the overtly ambitious…
…delicious fragments of your nature
I collect in obscurity.
Certainly, there is purpose in displacement.
Certainty is the fact I long to taste it.
All of it, honestly.
All that my honesty won't acknowledge.
Every remnant in your wake.
Awakened to the scent
I've imagined you would trace
walking into crowded rooms
or an open office space.
We've only shared proximity
proportionate to that of
this window pane and that turning lane.
You sit across the street.
Only twice we've come to greet
with a glance, a wave, a smile…
…all the while wishing and wondering.
You don't normally do this,
do you?
Not that it shows.
Not like everyone knows.
Intrigue the greatest muse.
Inspiration courageous in this setting.
Forgetting what to say on the way.
Paved the way atop wonder.
Raw form.
Less room reserved for charm.
More for insatiable enchantment.
We lay flat with intention undiscovered.
Uncovered more remnants to savor.
Flavor rich but not transparent.
The only apparent notion
is that emotion preserves drive.
If I might dive, I hope to see
what you were bound to save for me:
fancier of precious notes
soaked in wishful thinking and desire.
Lest you judge me,
I have no regret to face.
Faced with the choice
of imagination or affirmation,
let the former set the pace
for the latter to take it's place.
We will chase uncertainty
until deliberate means manifest.
Limbs stretch wide, perched high
where clouds rival shoulder blades.
Gentle wind acknowledging sweaty legs.
Arms loose like the first lift.
Gift from the skies matching teary eyes.
Cries mark progression and possession fully.
Unruly interaction.
Actions never outlined better than now.
Moments in this mind
carving out portions of time
hopefully revisited in frequency.
Frequently enacting what I've only dreamt of.
Clothe the window.
Seal with shade.
Set aside the time we've made
bring priority to fruition.
Dirty decadence distorted.
Pushed past all limits purported
by those seeking brief encounters.
Slick your tracings on my counter.
Smeared across my clothes.
Streaming between finger tips
Playful pecking at your lips.
Didn't have to hold your hips.
Gripped my mind and left behind
more than I would hope to find.
with recollection this refined,
I've found time to part these blinds.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Propriety"
Possession is nine tenths
yet your hands look disgusting.
Decrepit and dirty,
flirting with butter until
slick enough to impose will
and appear to stand still.
Slipped past door sils
without breaking the locks.
The grey fox is no blood hound
and since that dog won't hunt,
you can no longer front.
About face, soldier.
You are much older than the method.
New tricks and predictable manuevers.
Rumored to leave patterns.
Crossed familiar terrains flatter
than the evidence of your return.
Bridges burned in your wake.
Shook off the ashes, slight gashes
barely kept under disguise...
...your eyes betray your intent.
You believe you were sent
to fulfill a purpose seldom shown
for that which has never grown.
Attempt to cultivate your craft
among the magistrates that laugh
at your lack of style or flare
and you are bound to wonder where
you left your dignity after all.
After wire tapped phone calls
and that first search warrant,
you've become a little more abhorrent.
The cloth will surely smudge
but the torrent will not rinse away.
Before you even think or budge,
you should plan your getaway.
Since you were stealing anyway,
why not just ask for what is yours?
Instead, your pride gets in the way.
You find yourself on all four.
Behind the couch, the light is out
and all the action is dead.
Like a needle awaiting thread,
you take your time as you tread.
Under my bed you find the box.
You pick the lock. Forget keys.
Upon your lap lies your own trap.
You're bound and strapped at the knees.
I may want to negotiate
if you play nice and say "Please."
Not by my hands. Please understand:
I'm not the taunt nor the tease.
You've paved the way for your dismay.
An easy story to tell.
You've forged a path in disarray.
Who couldn't follow the trail?
Who wouldn't pick up the smell?
Funk of the frail high and mighty
who might be on the fence
like locks that dangle unclenched.
Made nothing common of sense
from a long line of demanding
substantial marks upon their names
who boast of their understanding.
What you lack you say you've claimed.
This your true measure of fame.
Infamous your times of quarrel
where you display insipid morals.
I will not rue this tomorrow;
so take back what I won't borrow:
Make way for the wasted time.
Every trinket. Every dime
spent in vain in chase of me.
All this useless vagrancy.
Make room for complacency.
Chances you had to run free
were lent to your latency.
Facing me in pain, you'll see
how far your efforts have been wrought.
Thought does nothing to improve
one who will not make a move.
It would behoove you to pack heavy.
Arch your shoulders.
Nice and steady.
Possession is nine tenths.
Reclaim everything you've sent
amid your deceitful purpose.
No receipt for your purchase.
Your life's service a lie
and you will be tried.
Crying like you've never shown it.
No denying that you own it.
Blown it further than expansion.
Locked you up within your mansion.
Thin the walls that echo shame.
Walls created in your name.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Cliffhanger"
Don't pull me up.
I've grown fond of this angle.
I can see so much more
from this ledge where I dangle
and I'm sure I'll fall soon
but before I do,
I will peer into the skies
for what runs away from the moon.
Eyes wide before departure.
Sport for the archer
hoping that I hang on a little longer
while taking aim at my heart.
I drew it all in parts:
One in admission of guilt.
One in need of thrill.
Two equal parts ill will
with both sinking fast.
Pile driven pulsations.
Downward spiral that will last
long enough to witness the crash.
Cashed out but bought in.
Sold out to souls thin enough
to see through the rough clearly
hiding the worn and the weary.
Nearly lost my grip
but no quiver in these lips.
Thoughts begin to flip
to those who wish to stand here
near the brink of futility.
Mysterious and magical.
Fanatical in flocks
just to perch upon rocks
for the ill fated photo opp.
Royal prowess through the lens.
Hash tagged the latest trends
and shared it with their favorite friends
that they barely ever speak to.
The growing need for the cusp
means nothing to one on the edge
and here I am beneath this ledge.
Once pledged my life
to a sense of security.
If it lacked congruency,
then it never knew of me.
Coincidental how the new in me
drew no contempt from truancy
pertaining to my direction.
Each emphatic inflection
would affirm the guilt in me.
Ink I've spilt to see
if it truly shares consistency
with that of bleeding limbs.
Hymns I've sung in earnest
line the logs within my furnace.
My ingrained book of lies
offer embers to the skies
and I flail like every page
in this wind and every phase
in which time dissolves my will.
We hunger for thrill;
but know nothing of the potency.
Openly we fasten to restraints
without the sufficient strength
to simply admit that we can't.
We cannot stay strong.
We cannot hold on.
We will not hold fast
to that which will never last
sure to outlast groundless efforts
concentrated upon deserts
further than vision would suffice.
Cling to that last shard of ice.
Only then will you begin.
Subtle grin held deep within
layers woven by the skeptic
who have yet to fully accept it.
Tarry long and you will stay.
Carry on along your way
lest you hope to end this day
hung high with nothing to say.
Prayed for penance. Never peace.
The vicious cycle will not cease.
Yearned to trifle with advisement.
Learned to scoff at all chastisement.
Let the renegade have reign.
Made no provisions for pain.
Lonesome legs lay sacrifice.
Now this moment is my vice.
I will not dangle forever.
Thought that this was all for better
than the time I'd never reserve.
Lent my boastful tone some words.
Struck a pose and called it something.
Wiser mouths could tell me nothing.
Stood here at the summit struggling.
Winds of change that sent me juggling.
I truly do love this angle.
Leave me be. Let me dangle.
Mangled, marred your point of view.
Oh the horrors they imbue…………
……………pulse of spirits lacking patience.
Frantic means. Can't wait to make this
moment epic and exclusive.
From this height, all is elusive.
Everything except the fall.
In the air we lose it all.
All of that lustrous ambition
in the place of admonition,
through the air one's fate recalls
every chance you had to crawl;
pacing steps safely near summit.
Brasher bearings ensure plummet.
Air locked tear ducts. No more crying.
Being pulled as if you're flying.
Thoughts evaporate with timing.
All except those before dying.
Pulled myself up in time to view
what was surely intended for you.
Never took the time to respect this ledge.
Better over the top than over the edge.
Appreciate the view from your angle
and if you should ever dangle,
be sure to improve your sight.
It may be your last chance to stand upright.
Don't fall.
Please. †
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Jury Duty"
You believe I'll Lie
yet you still say "Hi"
and if I pass by
without asking why,
then I've revealed my subscription?
And I can't say "no,"
can't board, walk or park in place
and I can't pass go?
Can I at least borrow a dollar?
Judgement warm under your collar
but you won't make change.
You deposit some conviction
with no bank in range.
Please accept this as valediction.
You are no doubt studious
but you won't like my diction.
Dubious your tradition.
It drives me up the wall
and crashes me into the pavement.
Nerves under swerve
and you can't handle the clutch.
Navigate much? Trick question.
If you've truly learned your lesson,
your path would be indicative of such.
Now I'm sure I sound absurd
so you peel back the plot
to expose my words
for the sake of your labels.
You've found solace in the fables
you have claimed as fact
and those who would react
find themselves right back
to the root yet to be dislodged.
Fastened to stints of grief
is a window from which
you have drawn your belief.
Mind and heart must collaborate.
Neither must saturate the other
lest one tries its best
to calibrate the other.
At that point, it would make sense
to cast both asunder
when what one calls correspondence
looks a lot like abscondence.
Now we lose communication
if it resembles litigation.
You won't budge and I won't nudge.
Told you I'm not here to judge
but I'm keen on observation.
Always searching for the facts
beneath everything we lack
and I know you'd do the same.
There is a differential, though:
Institutions you have named
just to mar them in persistence
will endure your flawed existence
and my purposeless retort, seemingly.
It would seem to be
an exercise in futility
to expound on one's ability
to denounce another willingly.
We converse to save face
yet we grow weary from the pace.
I rest my case.
I've taken my turn.
Court adjourned.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Secret Hiding Face"
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
