coming to grips

In this house where I sit
chomping at the bit
wasting spit, talking shit
as if it matters
what I’d rather do
I’ll watch them grow
until they go
and leave this home
to crumble around
my sac of bones
rattling, prattling
of the days gone by
and how words
were my saviour
when the feast lacked flavour
how rhymes were my beat
when the weed was too weak
to get high
and the light was too dim to see
that lines needed crossing
not treading or threading
into loose weaved lies
that couldn’t hide
the dirt in those corners
no one dared reach
or the unspoken distance
that no one would breach
lest it reveal cracks
and lead to deeds
too rash and brash to retract
and go on acting
like all is just fine

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half-life

In my efforts to cleanse
the past with time
I’m astonished to find
even ghosts
have half lives
and trace element trails
they leave
as half lies
perceived
only at dawn’s
first yawn
infecting all belief
in a new day

stasis

Living is what I do
When I’m not thinking of you
I’m often in stasis these days
The sun warms my shoulders
Into feeling less old than
My bark-like skin declares

I spend my days exposed
Like light can appease thirst
And bring life to dried dirt
But it won’t
And I’m left fiddling
With thoughts too belittling
Crumbling last year’s leaves

Branch bared and limb cracked
Waiting for my spine to snap
I keep twisting
Reaching back
To rake up debris from the past
And find a match to light it
Just to keep warm through the night

meantime

Five little words
could hardly impress
with any duress
but I must confess
like a chess master
preparing for disaster
I’m already five exchanges ahead
and all the digressions
you’ll make instead
of coming clean

And though my head is full
it’s my body that aches
to make up for mistakes
and time lost
in planning petty crimes
and their atonement
the moment we are done

So take your time
and borrow mine
I’ll burrow down
and tow some lines
that I’ll retrace and erase
in case my resolve dissolves
and I fill in the spaces wrong
all over again

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/clean/

fair warning

The space
you leave
between your
big sparse words
is shaded with
retractions
remissions
revisions
that turn it black
so I can no longer read
what seemed so clear
leaving me hanging
in the dark

But if I relax

and stare with eyes
opened wide
the dismissive omissions
soon form a space
where sparks of light
start to take shape
making a landscape
where I can exist
fully within
and without you

the secret

jotNrot

when I told you the secret
to keeping me away
was silence,
I was hoping
you would reply

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five stages of losing contact

Reading and rereading between barely lines of dead text

I send panicked messages to revive anything that may remain

I wait. Any time now…

Time you are not worth

How could I have been so stupid?

I stare dejectedly at non-notifications

Perhaps if I turn them off

I turn them off

Perhaps if stop checking

I do not check  (as often)

I uninstall, reinstall, uninstall
again and again

What if I lose track, show resolve, pay my dues

and install again

Dumb silence the reply

Hope is rescinding but your image, your voice, your silence haunt me

I’ve no rituals, no sacrifice left to offer

other than silence

I wait for when I will no longer wait

frozen

A sudden unexpected
though inevitable frost
curtails all the ritual tending
to set the perfect conditions
Nothing to do
but wait
and see
what,
if anything,
will sprout
Nothing
more disarming
than waiting
for spring

breathless

jotNrot

you
and I
we behold
a small secret
we giggle and blush
and hide and wait all hushed
days of reckoning to come
when lying breathlessly we’ll lie
denying meaning in our acts
retracting all our intents
covering the scratches
they left on our hearts
caged behind bars
of teeth clenched
in dead
smiles

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