Wednesday, December 30, 2009

When my insecurities take their hold
The state of not knowing or defining
becomes fear that I am not enough
for the world to know;
That my desire to shout from the climax
of the peak will never be fufilled,
and instead I will find myself in a subterranean
marine cavern
My mouth opening to shout my being
and instead muffled by the fetid water
of not knowing if to speak is to sentance myself
to never.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

I felt a blush rush up
and my fingers curled around my bottle
the soda level raising by degrees
And nearing the brim before I could put it aside
My palms wet
and slickening;
The cold emanating from the thin window pane-
tendrils raising chilled bumps cross my neck
Shoulders Collarbone
Wrapping round my arms
like Sheba's bejeweled armlets-
feels for them
but unable to ice the heat they find there;
Reactive my neck tightens into a pleasant knot
of the laces that run up my spine
corsetting this into my body
and causing my back to conform
to the tightening arch
of their guide;
A drumming started in my neck
carotid artery dancing to the rhythm
of my heart beat as I inhale through my nose
the chill of empty air
and loneliness.

And because the cause is absent
(not lending warmth
or shielding the chill)
I write.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

I wish I was the influence on you that you were on me
that these years
didn't just pass by like a bubbling fountain
or the algae tinted jets at the memorial park
Someplace to stop at at the end of a stressful day
to look back at with fondness
or to use as a backdrop for your larger days.

How many times will I go to spell "your" and instead spell "our"?

How many white knights do I have to turn jade(ed)
before I can disengage
the sense for you that twines itself throughout me
(or the sense of who will wake me at story's end)
A tangled nest of briar vines without a bud
or fleur or wilted petal
in the whole dreary mess?

Even the tower will crumble into dust before leaving

Not even my day dreams can stretch far enough
for me to think
that I was part of your molding Twisting Shaping
or the formation of who you became
now that time has worn away the varnish
That I've made without impressing
An ounce of me.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

I'd rather be irrelevant than forgotten
She said with a grin as she downed another whiskey sour
and made excuses for our irreverence.

Go on Go on,
The world waits for you
And there's always something more important than me
I assure you.

I'd rather be irrelevant than forgotten
She said without shame as she danced out of the bar
And left him puzzeling his mistake

Leave it my dear
The world is too big
And too full of important things than I can say
And I swear

I'd rather be irrelevant than forgotten
she said, knowing one leads to the other in the end
but when she pretends she can't care.