“Oh something that’s as dropped on the ground”
You know what it isn’t: valuable.
You know what it isn’t: a loved one
You know what it isn’t: the answer to our problems
“Better pick it up”
Give me a hand, so I might shake it. Lend me your ears, so I might bend them. Nod for ‘yes’, and shake for ‘no’, lose it for ‘maybe’.
What is a brain, without a heart?
What is a heart without a brain?
Don’t be silly, hearts don’t think!
What a bloody pain.
A hopeful future’s day is bright-
Mourning mother’s fading light.
The time and fates take you above.
But still my heart warms, from your love.
Time and time, and time again,
You cared for us; simple and plain.
Sacrifice and woe and toil-
Rain and dust, earth and soil.
I sing your song, a silent sigh.
A mournful hope of wishing whys.
Washing away the weekend. Soaking in a bath. Warm and relaxed. Reading, and trying to think through a mental fog. Meaning landing flatly. Rounding the globe’s slippery horizon. Wheels snapping down, rubber wheels find a stone ground as desolate colossal feelings radiate through the windows. Completely out of sync with the unnatural marble of our collective expressions.
Planned hopscotch foils us. The many bent and sick. Minds and hearts, respectively. Wrong door, dickhead.
I saw my friend walking along.
I was a friend walking along.
I told him watch your six
I checked my watch
He looked at his watch
‘No. Look out behind you,’ he said with a peevish tone.
‘Ooops!’ I said, dropping his coffee.
Our busted faction
I won’t bend, your heart will mend
I won’t flex, your shallow sex
I won’t stay, your holiday
I won’t fight; four-your dull light
Pardon my reaction,
But where is OUR attraction.
Your lies are poverty
Your truths are pain
If love’s a lottery
It’s a numbers game.
It’s a bastard
It’s a bitch
It’s a daily
It’s a ditch
Here’s an apple
There’s a pear
Here’s to memories
There’s my share.
Rolling down, the slippery bank.
Self defucktion; file and rank.
Life was not, no honey dew.
No fucking-kidding-that was you.
It’s over now, time will pass
Looking through a looking glass.
Hoping what could possibly be-
A patchwork makeshift version me.
Fractures and reflections
Guilt and regret-
Questions and inflections.
On your marks, get set.
All you say and all you said
Failing tests and breaking bread.
Tectonic plates, will move apart.
An existential place, for us, to start.
It took some guts to change
This absence feels so strange
Resentment cohabits fear
talking cheap my Dear.
An honest break from me and you –
Good tidings severed clean and true.
This morning I was early, I should have slept in longer – blurry bleary tired and trampled. Bed is so good, rest is mandatory, I will lay here until the last possible moment. I am dying. Empty empty dying. My body is a renegade, my body is a castle. First mornings light, I shy away, until I can’t, avoid the day.