we sit silent like prayers. buildings like lightening bugs. i left a poem on the fridge for you. i want to scream at you, but i don’t know you. thank you for taking me in you have to clear it all out. like that? home on speed dial tethered like hope. i’ve been told that you’re listening i don’t understand why there’s so little natural light.
in the daydream, you bred light and photographed ghosts. ripples were wrinkles that formed where your lips met. you spoke to skeletons about today’s war. the chess game is silent.
in this version, you don’t build windchimes. you don’t find peace. in this version, you are not the standing ovation. you are creaking light.
shhhh open your palm and ask for a ghost. end the night with worry. sink into growth. the daydream was never a promise. it was never pixels or skin or choice.
you bow your head, your back to the violent sun.
please forgive me for cradling you before you left without your light.
And now I’m tired
I tried to be support
And push us to better ourselves
Moving away from the things
That make us terrible people
I tried to do this with you
But two days and you were gone
Running back up to these poisons
And poisonous people
That you once said you hated
I wanted to start this with you
We were freshening our souls
And beginning something wonderful
Now I’m starting to believe you like the dark
The poison; The hate
You want the reckless and the terrible
The beaten and the stupid
I can feel it in my heart
You don’t want to tear away from it
You say you want this new life together
As you run as far away from it as possible
I want to help you and support you
In reaching these goals that have been set
For years this has been coming
But suddenly now it’s here
And you are nowhere to be seen
I feel betrayed and hurt
Because I trust you
Then I leave for a moment
And suddenly you’re back
To those old ways
Never staying sober
Long enough to care
Or remember our relationship
Or anything you want in this life
And now I’m tired
Of worrying and feeling alone
Living this life we wanted
But now it’s just me here
While you run wild
In the streets you swore
We left behind
The time it takes lets me down gently.
With fistfuls of lanolin and pocket knives.
There’s something to it, in the way
it moves me left to right then slightly left
before the next day’s dawn uprooting data.
Rockstar goes down virtually and easier.
The neck stifles its coughs with greater expertise.
Somewhere along the line is the sum
of our increasingly varied parts.
But this is a nonentity. Or perhaps a phantom
passing gas to other phantoms and then
laughing all the way to the bank of flowers
some artist put here during the ’90’s.
A firestorm in tow. I’d go where you went
but just to watch you leave in replay,
because I lack what’s called “balls.”
Other issues now presiding.
The kids all process leeches.
To the tune of six hundred American dollars,
they spun and turned their collars up, the parlor junkies.
They wore on their feet shoes so clunky
that one almost felt sorry.
How, after all, can such tragedies
be allowed in this, the best of all possible worlds?
Wind came a-churnin’ like a churlish beggar
in baggy pants. The dance continued,
as did the sale of liquor on Sundays,
much to the chagrin of the churchgoing crowd.
They squalled so loudly that they garbled
the content of their message.
They may as well have been pulling steel wool
from their mouths.
A crowd was gathered in the ballroom,
all of them brandishing hot irons
and cynical cartoons. Some called it a boon.
Others took to their hot air balloons
and were never seen or heard from again.
I was already wending my way through
the labyrinthine halls of that piping hot palace,
seeking the solace of someone or other’s bedchambers.
Clamor covered and smothered the event.
‘Twas a fine time to repent,
though nobody could quite remember
the protocol for that. All was overkill,
spilled guilt and hot flashes.
Splashes of a wounded sunset
crept through the window.
Of these, none took notice.
language of eyes
we don’t meet.
a finger taps finished wood.
patience is seeing
everyone around you
find their way
to the exit.
to be rehearsed
behind closed doors.
DID SOMEONE SAY FREE? $$
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