38/100

Please forgive the mess

The half-hearted attempts

The shitshow.

Forgive the profanity

Forgive the nightmare-like psychosis

You’ll have to excuse me I’m always distracted

Feeling so many things

 Trying to frame them with palatable language

As there is in my soul like this baseline

Like some desert hallucination

As the architecture of the earth

How then

Have I been rendered on this hinge?

Where the telepathy seems abundant

How I feel them so differently

Both raw and cryptic

In the way that I sense them

Like a conversation that I need only listen in on

And what

Am I supposed to say when the eyes are on me?

Knowing the Ceiba outside is beckoning me away from my desk

What then in the whispers of the lichens?

As I shift away from the depths

Into other unforeseen horizons

Where I am only beginning to learn the value

In not having to go alone

As if in some way

Through isolation I find connection.

unbecoming

Somewhere in the lies

In being ignored

In the being taken for granted

this atonement

For all the time I have squandered

Where I have done the same to others

And I know the reason—

Because they can.

The why is the same

as we enact a kind of bitter dance

that is always off-rhythm

in every expression of “sorry my phone died”

“I meant to call you back”

It's there in the corner of your eye

Divisive in its own absence

as memory that cannot be placed  

There is a kind of cultivation 

that never takes hold

a regrowth that never occurs

from all of the hurt inflicted 

within others as with myself

not remorseful

like desert tears 

that never come

 wasted

across a landscape of explanation

where words that never become actions

as prey to deception 

in the twilight hours

where I commit you to memory

inside of the concept; unbecoming

not meant to be—

inappropriate for this scene- 

as black leafless trees

reach into the air 

like arteries to a cold white sky 

in veneration of being ravaged by flames

channeling a dissonant chorus of silence

the yearning

I’m hungry in my heart for a thing I cannot name

As an absence in my soul to a place I cannot frame

dreaming of these things non-stop constantly

To a place in my mind that yearns to be set free.

There’s a whisper in my soul that remains not at rest

Within this fragile form where I have tried to do my best

And I’m breaking on the inside like the tide upon the rocks

devoid of feeling within myself like a fortress full of locks

How many thoughts of this have I held within my heart

In the realities of our world where they never seem to start

And I wonder on the futures of what is yet to be

With eyes upon the love that I never seem to see.

And I want to say I’m hopeful that this will come to pass

like goals of finding something designed to fully last

Like gazing upon horizons in visions of the blessed  

yearning for something more than language can express