Arc

 

Afraid to move forward

Or retreat back
across the wreckage

this moment like shrapnel
scattered across the wasteland

our lives as a fraying banner  

begging for the rain to fall

as blossoms scattered to the wind

caustic and hurtful

the ache of what has been done echoing through us.

In the savagery of our species

Stripped of arousal

Where I don’t ever want to feel numb like this, numb to you.

Separated from what I feel and what I am  

Drawn and desiccated

Callous to our own suffering.

I open my eyes upon urban and domestic pantheon

In moments of solitude

Dissolving sexuality in a harshness I cannot place

I feel horrible—

I feel lost.

In the scent of something I relegate to memory

among caverns of corrosive darkness

How deeply we experience such moments

how often;

As chaos and carnage

Sought and sonder

Wish and wonder

a thin ribbon of smoke peels across this landscape

that chokes in sorrow 

asphyxiates in hurt

where you seem so impossibly far

in grief and strife  

how can we face the sun again

or each other  

unspeakable loss  

Wondering on that which will not become

in the clarifying bitter scent of redemption.

Zeerah

Somewhere in the foothills, somewhere in my soul

Somewhere there is something, Yearning to be whole

In flights and phone calls, in words and text

all the forgotten moments, where I wonder what comes next

I’m lost for what to say, estranged on what to do

In the dreams of making better, the things I already knew.

They cannot hide from my mind, and they cannot be free

 How can I answer all of this, within my thoughts I see

with so many deep breaths, so much to be done

Silencing a heartbeat, this battle cannot be won

How broken I feel in this instance, how hurt I have become

In such soured spirits, what would I be done? 

 I sense though dimension, the cries of that which gives

How can we make such choices, to deny that which lives

And time will heal all of this, and shed some kind of light

we have to make the plays,  we must  do what is right

I cannot break two lives for one, I cannot take away the pain

on this scorched earth, where will anything grow again?

In some way I have earned this, in some sense it is right

What I would give in this to take away this slight

I feel it through the aether, I sense it like a dream

Like hurricanes making landfall, like a voice that cannot scream

And at its end I’m sorry, and in my soul it hurts

In this I would give anything; to make this more than words.

Day to Night

My heart is the jungle

With the animals of the night

My heart is the barren desert

In dreams of fading light

My heart is the horses

Running in the sun

My heart is seduction

Of a lover still to be won

Within me there’s a venom

That I cannot seem to name

In a wistful dance

Of kingdoms to reclaim

Deep within the green

They call upon a friend

Within fortunes favor

As a life I must attend

Woken in the stillness

This telepathic dream

I saw upon horizons

subtle  within esteem

What then did I owe them?

These thoughts of early day

Without communication   

The words you never say

my mind remains a labyrinth

racing against the clock

as if my soul is rising

like the tide against the rock

and in the nuanced rage

I can feel it in a place

As a future I have felt

Like a nightmare I must face

slight

Gentle in implication

As rustling leaves

give way to October stillness

slight

in the way that  I feel you beyond the ephemera

as ephemera

slight

in an emptiness I cannot name and a power I cannot relinquish

there is a vesper of self that reigns over me

slight

in some inequality of a peculiar type

some deception of a divisive nature

felt with such nuance that I cannot accurately place it

Slight.

So filled with venom

Overcome with such rancor 

watching them succumb in a hallucination

they cannot escape

as lightning touching down 

a fractal breaking upon their thoughts

in electric impulses

how afraid I can make them

as artillery tearing their safeguards asunder

how present I already am 

unnoticed. 

slight.  

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