Filed under: memories, poetry | Tags: bad poetry, crappy poetry, stream of conscience
September 6th, 2008
You wish you had this… this life, and this love, but you are too young, too blind to see how fragile and how perfect it is. I walked through the halls of that broken down, closed up building and I didn’t find your ghost, the one you left behind, the one you refused to take with you. Back north you traveled and you were gone forever. Or so I thought. And you crept back to say hello, but not upright, never standing straight and I left without waving goodbye, just left in a confusing silence. Was that my triumph?
You went to the place you knew, where you were raised, the pain and the acceptance. I stood my ground and waited for the next ride, the next step down. These radio waves carry nothing now, dead air, white noise. And it started that night I left you waiting. I know that wasn’t right, it never could have been after what we did, what we did to each other, how I felt all those years. I took that bus from the junction and didn’t take in, really take in what I found. It was never there, it was always in the field we ran through blindly, with only our faith… where was that place, I can’t remember anymore. Did I triumph there?
I wonder about the life you lead now? I don’t question your decisions, or the love you feel, but I wonder where your inspiration has gone. Do you still feel the same way you did, I mean when the house is silent and the snow is falling and all are fast asleep? Are you left with the gentle demons of your past, do they let you go or do they haunt you in the night? What feels real to you, what if life is just passing you by, do you even stop to question one from the other? And it’s okay if you never do, that may just be your triumph.
August 29th, 2008
I couldn’t possibly pretty up all of the things I want to say, tuck them in, fit them into a nut shell. The words want to over flow. We are constant reminders of what there once was, who is here to say what will be in the end? I take these hours quietly, not filling them with what I need to be doing, whatever that may be. You have your space, I have mine, does it feel right? Nothing does. 33 and running to stand still. I was once the river to your tree, I always wanted to be the rock. I was once the shadow behind the light, I always wanted to be the actor who wasn’t playing a part. I will go and feel what family has to give, and take it in like I never have before, never allowed myself to. And I will return and we will continue this, what ever this is. Maybe I’ll do what I should be doing, I don’t fear I will never know what that very thing may be, that thing that will make me whole… maybe it’s you, maybe it’s us, maybe it’s none of those things at all. Above all else I hope it is in me.
August 23rd, 2008
Really, that was a pathetic excuse for “I don’t want to let on that it bothers me”. I’m so wrapped up in love that I don’t see past my digressions. I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m new. I lean on my crutch of certainty, like you’re the one f*cking this up, you’re the one with the problems. I’ll walk around with my indignation and not be bothered with your concerns, because that’s how I am now… welcome.
This is not about you.
August 22nd, 2008
I get to see you again and I don’t want to. I want to delete you, erase you from my existence. Just clean up, pack up, throw away your memories, bury your face. I know that I can’t do that, too much running from those things already. Maybe what you did to me I’m doing right back to him, maybe that’s the cycle, the wheel I keep spinning. Why don’t I stop it, why don’t I look to those I was told about, the one’s who would save me, save me from myself? I just need to be in a new place, but familiar, with new air and new sky. I have to forget the 19 days that make no difference in the entirety of my life. What were they really, but manifestations of all things unknown wrapped up nicely in layers of mistrust, doubt, euphoria, confusion and self-awareness. That must be forgotten, to move on, to close that door, to expect more.
Filed under: poetry | Tags: bad poetry, crappy poetry, stream of conscience
August 16th, 2008
Somewhere between not knowing and not caring, that is when I met you. I wasn’t running anymore, you were standing still and letting the world pass you by, letting it all slip away. I’m not talking about the things you knew, or were, I’m talking about the people who touch you and you don’t care. You can’t care, because you aren’t really there. I can’t expect these words to hit you the way yours hit me, yours came crashing in and settled down so gently almost like they weren’t making any sound. And how can they, you’re so young, or at least you were then. I’m not talking about you, and you think I am… I haven’t been because you’re not even listening and you never have been, you’re not capable of hearing. I pass through your life like a cold, something you get over, but don’t even really notice is gone. You just realize it’s easier to breathe.
Filed under: Dreams, Living | Tags: crappy poetry, stream of conscience, thoughts
August 1st, 2008
And what would you do if I could have you? Would there be shadows and whispers and dark hallways? The corners of your mind may be filled with mysterious movements and lurid poetry but on the surface there is nothing but the humdrum, everyday, pencil pushing, drone of electricity. I would see you looking at me, and I would shrink back down into my responsibility and expectations. I fall into your eyes and forget what I was supposed to be doing, the purpose of it all, what I meant to him in the first place. But you reminded me of that and I was grateful, thankful that someone could push me over that edge again, so unexpectedly. You were there in that dream, so real, so asleep in a vision of quickness, heat, and you were stripped away just as quickly as you had come. I can’t see you anymore, as you fade in and out and away into the background of what we have built up around us. And there you will remain, like the ghost of someone I should have met years ago, someone I did have and someone who I never meant to meet at all.
