April 15, 2016
Tick, tick, tick. This time, it’s right. Finally right. The quietness of a moment is all I need. My mind clears. The roads are clear. I can move on without my wheels. The tireless rush of blood to my head stops for a moment of oxygen, good enough to subdue my senses and bring me home. I don’t need to be more than I am, no more than my heavy skin and bones. What’s a life worth these days? I owe everyone nothing but the generosity of a night’s closing. The moon ahead guides me to the intersection of revelatory two way lanes and layered synthetic melodies. Let me run headlong into the cave of wonders.
December 21, 2015
I’m older now,
I know too much of what’s not there,
I’ve come and gone in the blink of an eye,
I run like the wind,
the wind of a well-oiled machine,
I think I know my desires,
I know my fears,
I act on these fears,
I’m hindered by my ghosts,
I cave into myself with age,
because I no longer believe in us,
I don’t believe the world is mine,
I see that everything hurts me,
so I fold into my thoughts,
I slink away and into the corner,
but I was grand once,
I closed my eyes and let you lead me,
I held my breath and jumped into the sea,
I was invincible and spectacular,
it was all before the long storm,
the call of the taming,
the inevitibility of growing up.
December 20, 2015
I see the way the eyes betray the assertion,
the way the truth swirls like thick smoke in the core of the retinas.
I can hide much fiction without difficulty,
but the eyes, they betray me every time.
I see the way they look at me, these old eyes,
the weight of their stare,
and how deeply they feel for me.
They apologize to me, out of reverent pity.
These eyes grasp the gravity of the situation they have created,
and they know the depth of their actions.
They see how ill-equipped I am for this world,
how woefully exposed I am to the dangers that be,
how my state of being could change in an instant.
They are my creator, these aging eyes,
they are the eyes that bought me into the world,
and they are the eyes that see who I have become for it.
November 15, 2015
We are the children of great men,
men who have elevated their people to insurmountable heights,
men who have built a microcosm of comfort and decadence.
Our forefathers have concluded that civilized society can exist when it is removed from its grisly origins,
entire lives can be lived in luxurious underdevelopment,
a second and third thought never needing to be spared.
We spring forth as the denizens of this grand society,
reaping the uncompromising spoils of our day and age,
privilege that has been rooted in blood and suffering and fire.
This fortuitous circle of life continues for you and I,
as those darkened faces remain at the bottom of the barrel,
for they are the inevitable byproduct of the unforgiving lives we lead.
We are stained with their blood,
we have drunk the tainted water for the entirety of our short and misleading existence,
and we will go on never knowing.
But still, what of those others, the ones we have left out to die?
The ones who will be forgotten and overshadowed by more applicable tragedies?
Will someone unearth their suffering from the malnourished ground lest we, their great saviors and executioners, forget them one day?
September 10, 2015
For a fraction of a millisecond, I see it.
There beyond the bluffs and the sea, the long dive below.
I see my mortality eternal, etched in layered hues of blue and gray.
I see how the best counterpart of my spirit is also its worst, its most nightmarish twin soldier.
How love can be too much to cling to and account for, how it is nearly unbearable to fathom when I stop long enough to think on it.
How in that seemingly negligible fraction of a second, it seems entirely possible and tangible, this terrifying reality of existence.
How I might know this reality through lapsed dreams in the dark, where my consciousness is veiled under cushioned placeholders.
The night grows dreary, cold, distant.
I want to leap headlong into that dark bluff, and I want to frame you for it.