considerations

I tire of strategies and ways
to cope with oncoming days
relentlessly repenting my weakfisted displays
of resistence
Should I walk you through
the maze of forays I’ve made
to breach your frame of reference and make you see me
Or should I don those gifted feathers and the walk
that make me talk in ways
that appease and rename me

South, North, West, East,
Worst, Best, Most, Least

these things matter
to you it seems

And just like that
I’m calculating freedom
Considering extractions
and subtractions
against the cost of inaction
And alone glows like a full moon
This ill-fitting life
spreads a feast before me
While I, measuring my worth inversely to your silence,
starve for the stars above

all (a)part

A few steps on
and details will blur
The errors and slurs
looking back will concur
It was just life
making itself heard
above the din of clinking
glasses raised to chins
under eyes glancing
to catch sight of daggers
advancing to nail them
to a whim for the night
Some are flung,
some take flight
from the orbits of ones
skillful at hunting
for fillers and props
to their cheap thrills
While others watch
the slaughter of hearts,
uttering remarks behind
napkins drawn to lips,
hungering to be part
of the scene

some things

Dandelions
blast their yellow
onto my retinas. 
I want to scream
“WHY ARE YOU
SO FUCKING
BEAUTIFUL?!?”
All the Hows, and 
Whys flood in on cue
none of which
have ought to do
with me. 
Still, I want
to take them in
with all my senses,
and make of them all
I can with all the means
and mediums I have. 
It’s much the same with you. 

stand down

You may think I am tripping
but I’m falling in line
There is nothing to say
that will last the while
it takes to switch between channels and screens
for a twitch of thrill
Still, I wouldn’t kill a fly
for you
Though I’ll smile
to fix your feet to the ground
as you swerve round
to avoid the sound
of the void slapping you
I’ll swear to swear
to let slip slips of bits
of dirty snippets
to whip your urges
add groans to your dirges
and fuck that smile off your face
disgracing the sanctity
of titties swaying naively
in the waves, while the sun
slants violet glares
iridescently violent
as the first exchange
of knowing glances
at our slim chances
of making it last
another day
Tomorrow there will be
enough sorrow
left for us to wallow
with hollow faces
over empty promises made
Truth is there’s no truth
I cannot swallow with a shot
and fire back at blank range

be careful

Be careful not to slip
out of character, out of line
Be careful
not to let loose
strands fall into your eyes
not to smudge your drawn lines
Be careful
to look closely
look under and in beteeen
Be careful
not to move too quickly
not to startle or rush
to the front or to conclusions
Be careful
of first impressions
yours and theirs
Be careful
to be mindful of others
not to let your need show
Be careful
not to overshadow
nor to take too much space
Be careful
to keep your elbows at your sides
your hands on the table
your cards close to your chest
Be careful
not to say too much
not to be too direct
Be careful
to phrase it gently
no matter how true
Do what you want
but just be careful

unsettling

You stood
so steady and solemn
I wanted to push you
full on
Not to see you fall
but to feel your whole being–
from the shift in your eyes
to your wavering core
down to your very next step–
give way to something
you couldn’t control
or foresee
And that it could
for an instant
be because of me

summer’s end

I’m not ready
for the end of summer
the shorter days
and too long nights
the colder, crisper,
slanted light
casting less afters
than befores

I wanted you
in summer
under raining stars
facing the bold moon
not in a dimmed room
under stolen hours,
humid covers and eyes
folded down
against tomorrow

time sets

This is the time of day
when the light
of inspiration
is replaced by a bulb
of annotations
listing tomorrow’s duties
when petty pinpricks of frustrations
turn to burning indignation
for giving in to expectations
only to be disappointed again

It is the time for rage
to take the shape
of something whittled
smooth and sharp
and be stuck into
our unsuspecting hearts
just to feel them skip a beat
so we’ll recall
why we keep
holding on

pop pop boom

retinal overlay
makes the day glow
orange grove brown
down to the alley
dead end rally
of tin can rattles
for every penny matters
of the heart
stuck with darts
parted from hands
dissolving prayers
rubbed into the layers
of skin thin with
interest in stories
not built by bricking
quick thinking
to a stop
now drop and
hear the call
up on the wall
written for all
to fall down
go underground
duck those bullets
flying about
all the lying
grinding thought
to a halt
one is lost
another blinded
by the signs
all around us
glowing neon
sounding reason
gypsy genes
ankles bared
afros, knees braced
receding hair glare
details detached
fragmented despair
while I digress
in this mess
I must confess
I scan the lines
to find a plot
all I see is what is not

the good li(f)e

Every time I look at you
I’m reminded of how I pay
for having taken the lifeline you threw me
when I was sinking in the mud
How you pulled me onto the shore
gasping for any kindness
How you saw in me the drive to survive and conjure temples from rubbish
How you tethered me with comforts
and loaded me with purpose
long enough so I wouldn’t perceive
that the shore was on an island
I’d never find the strength nor will enough to leave

But most of all I am reminded
how I long for the mud again