arrested thought
pen in jello.
legs a swamp
eyes coal mine.

battles fought
dull grey fellow
trmpled tramp
underfoot’s decline.

I slept enough for both of us.
I thought of you and me.
I feel like i’m in a rush.
so from it all I flee.

My back hurts.
my legs twang,
my mind is changed-
like whipped cream
scrambled eggs.

I don’t need drugs to make me better.
I want consistency. Health and love,
comfort and sex. and none of it.

I want difficult times, hardships and drive.
A mission, finances, time, anger.
Subjectivity, sharpness, meaningful conversation.

A long walk without the stress of waking up.
A long sleep with dreams that don’t make me sigh.

Just let people know.
Let them know.
Talk to them, let them know.
What you’re going through.
What you need from the universe.

You never need something from someone,
only to be birthed.

49 days of mourning.
3rd of feb has been and gone.
and i’m only now opening up.

I say I have more good days than bad.
And I said it.
I said it well, what I wanted done.
Great and good.

My heart hollow.
legs numb.
eyes tired.
head boggling.
stomach full and turning.
no comfort.

Just waiting for someone to rob me.
Pull me out of this slumber.
Slow and busted up.
Unsustained, miscreant.
Mischance, fear and blubber and banality.
No sharpness, no wit or enjoyment.
Just grey.
The grey lead.
lead from the greyness.
Colours, once again
enlighten me with enjoyment.
Give me the commitment I want.
Ask me for a full length.
and I will give,
if only you give in return-
the commitment of character.
your body, soul and thoughts.

Let us think tank.
be lost, make plans.
Be ok, wandering.
Distracted, mesmerized
and how much you give me,
just how much you commit.

Will judge your own satisfaction
happiness. As our bodies commit suicide.
We aren’t fully aware.
Until we look back, wondering how and when it all happened.
something to do.
distract. Love, hug, kiss, push, wail, wont.
wonton soup, over my eyes.
how such hotness scorned down the front of me.
Biting and pinching,
nipples rising.
heat pouring over me.
Flaring out.
And my tears, on blistered lids.
Stinting I sing out.

A song of stain,
saintly significance
A hymn of the faith.
Belief that I can go on.
Wrapped up in it all.
bedridden, unbeauty.
wings that never were.
feelers that never felt.
legs, without feet.
chin sans strength.

And I must rinse this from me.
Achieve more.
more of me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s