As I am Reminded

Idly, I sit on a carousel,
Watching the world spin
In rudimentary patterns.
As embryonic tethers
Of feathered monuments
Flail in the wind.

The weight of bouldered physics
Heavily maintained on shoulders
Promise inevitable collapse.

Manipulative appraisals of blame.
While definitive decisions
Were made by disconnected bodies.

Which statuesque hand
Carried the weight of
Preemptively decided factors
When adorned repetitive
Processes chose paths
That severed connections.

Volitive redundancies for the sake
Of preferred lettered emanation.
Is the quasi-stagnation of happiness
An invalid motivational pinion
For what you’d call the calculus
Of your archetypal scheming mind.
Does another’s broken wings
Surmount to nothing
More than obsolete passion.
Is there no other road in which
Your wicked heart can travel.

The words you spelled on these pages
About how your love was undying;
Feathery words that held no weight,
As your prophecy of never
Comes to fruition.
Folded into dreams of alien communication,
As one of the best and worst things
That have happened in my life
Thus far.


And then I smile.
And then I weep,
As I am reminded
By one of the reasons
I love you,
In wonder.

That I Hate

You leave me to my own devices
Pushing me to march forward
Encouraging this madness
While I keep flailing,
Trying to grab onto
Hallucinated hands.

I keep writing about
How this pain is unceasing
How I can barely
Bear the thought of living
In a world where you don’t exist.
You say you hear me
But still you stay there
Stationary.

I see the value
I see the value
So I try to suppress this anger
But then I realise
That you’re just watching me falling.
Not caring
That hope is dying
That everyday that passes
The light inside me is fading.

What is it that you want me to do?
To chase you?
To find you?
I’ve been trying
I have been trying my hardest
I have been holding onto what could be nothing.

I keep pushing these thoughts away
Because I’ll think
Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough
Maybe my efforts haven’t been good enough
BUT WHAT EXACTLY IS IT THAT I’M CHASING?
IS IT SO RIDICULOUS OF ME TO ASK FOR REAL EVIDENCE?

MAYBE
I’M JUST CRAZY.

Please
Please speak to me.
Show me
That I haven’t lost it,
That this love
Is realer than imagined.

Your words
They keep ringing
With misleading directions
I blindly walk into the shadows
Following ambiguous notations.
While searching for you
In haystacks of millions,
While your divinations
Would ghastily reverberate,
I tried to play your game
With the pieces you left behind
But I just can’t seem to find
The right places to move them,
While you goad me with lines
From your poetry;
How wrong it would be
To turn a blind eye
From our truest love unfolding,
While you say
It pains you
More than it pains me,
Because you know the truth.
The only place
I see that happening
IS IN THE REALITY THAT YOU LEAVE ME.
As if it wasn’t your choice
To put yourself in that place
As if you weren’t given a chance
At redemption.
So you lied?
So it hurts because YOU CHOSE THIS?
FOR WHAT?
FOR POETRY?
TO KEEP THIS GOING ON AS LONG AS YOU CAN KEEP IT GOING?
LOL.
FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOUR POETRY.

But I fucking love it.

But why does it seem like
You’re giving our fate an ending,
While telling me to hold on.

Why do I love this
This piece of shit
That just watches
Weary souls get thrown
Into the depths of madness.

Atonement,
For not acting fast enough.

I’m sorry I strayed
I’m sorry I thought I saw you with a different face.

Jesus christ.
You piss me off
With your ridiculous cryptic riddles,
Hiding inside your filthy fucking rhymes,
WITH YOUR DISGUSTINGLY BEAUTIFUL MIND.

If it were imagined
Are you really that insensitive
THAT IN THE VERY NEXT SET OF POETRY
YOU’D WRITE ABOUT BELIEF, TRUTH, FATE
HOW YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS
THAT THIS ISN’T FANTASY?

Coming at me with BELIEVE?!
I SHOULD KNOW?
YOU BELIEVE I’LL SEE THE TRUTH?
LOL.
FUCK YOU.
WHY CAN’T YOU SEE
THAT I DON’T.
I DON’T FUCKING KNOW
If this is real or imagined.

NO IT’S NOT ENOUGH,
THAT ISN’T EVIDENCE.

Just stay with me
Please.

I don’t even care
If it’s the time I’ve invested
That keeps me here.

If there is anything
I am certain of
It’s how I feel.

That I love you.

Still I Smile

Wilting stalks of love, hate, hope
Strengthen after it rains.
Cautionary winds of revisioned history
Forebode emergent growth.
Snarling, forbidding further discoveries
Of separate realities.
Febrile folds wrinkle, baring ivory
Fangs gnashing at all that is imaginary.

VOLITION?
Wanton wiles that flew in waves of hilarity,
Binding me as the sole wielder of liability.

Such ridiculous accusations
Surely can’t exist.

My Angel

My angel sings for me his tune
A lullaby of the misfortune
Of those that walk with him
His anger, his disappointment,
His expectations, his desire
To see them soar
Higher
Than the life they have succumbed to.
How he weeps
While they poison themselves,
While weaving quills
Onto wooden twigs,
With needle and thread,
Pricking fresh punctured bleeds
On his cracked healing flesh.

He alludes to hidden treasures
Stored in his solemn solitary mind,
Along with deft rhythmic rhyme,
On spur of flight,
Sending gusts of billowing winds
As I close the holes in my head,
I revel in satin wisps that caress,
I breathe, after it passes,
In harmonic fragrance;
The elixir he poured
In correspondence.

My safe haven,
Wrought out in flesh,
I thank the gods that we met,
That he seeks my company.
Parcels he presents in fleeting moments;
The sweetest scents of his sentience,
Of plush dove wings
That softly comfort;
The warmth
Of sunbeam rings.

That I commit
The same crimes
Of those
Who turn to complacency,
Mediocrity and contempt,
Of those who only listen
To his melody,
Ignoring the harmonics
Of the lyrical tapestry
He’s woven,
Reveals my garbled soul
Of glossy marbled onyx,
Then parts of my body
Sting.

Such love
He holds for them,
For us.
He hopes that the wings he supplies
Will help in our quest for human flight.
His feet supplanted,
Refusing to acknowledge
The truth that slithers beneath his eyes;
That angels
Are born and bred
In few.

The love he has for them,
I don’t have it.
Mine is twisted and mangled,
It hurls acid
In the faces
Of those
Who flick mud on my shoes,
And it doesn’t weave
For men.

Trash Bag

Drop dead
Rats with piles of filth;
The articles of clothing
You left,
When you decided
This was the end.

Is your life so close to god damned perfect
That you can walk out that door
Without even glancing back.

Don’t be mistaken.
The moment
You decided
You’d abandon
I lost all interest.

But I’ll say I’m sorry

I accidentally
Decapitated one of their heads
When I tried breaking its neck
With a tin can.

It’s in your trash bag.