Empty skies falling slowly,
far down the coast
they’ve floated - faltered.
Encased in perpetual motion,
their temperament as shifting
as the water and air within.
They are only less human
because they are closer to
the light we want desperately
against our pained skin,
because they are kept
under rule happily by
the wind and will of something
greater than we know.
The empty sky takes in
the thunder and the gales,
the quick licks of the sea
and the grace of the birds.
All take sanctuary
among the eternity
of cerulean majesty.
The sun gives its blessings -
and the sky gains
rubies, amber, and gold,
to sling against
the slightest gaze.
And I’m sitting here,
not knowing if
I will ever
know one thing
or another
because the answers
are never as apparent.
I will write a masterpiece.
I will exist not by name but through story.
I will change not the world, but the mind.
I will not die leaving only bone, but also words.
I will do these things,
because if I do not
then the thoughts that
I have been thinking
all along on those days
I don’t really remember
would all be
for not.
I will accomplish these all in time
because if my time is lost
then my words will be all
that remain.
This is how I will live on.
Ah one
Ah two
Ah one, two, three, four.
I’ve been jumpin
Along my feet tonight
To a beat
I hadn’t ever heard
In all my life!
And it feels right!
So I’ll dance in my mind
Tonight.
(Yeah, YEAH!)
(Woooooh Oh!)
I left
My place on the ground
Vacant
To the boredom around
And I know
That I’ve been thinkin
All the right notes
To have a good time
Tonight!
Tonight,
tonight,
tonight!!
So I drift off now
To a place without sound
And I hope
That you have found
A beat or song
To sing along to
Tonight!
(Sleep in all
the small hotel rooms.
Cry in a ball
after that guy left you.
Learn how to fall
from a story tall
to let you
feel alive tonight!
Do
what
you
feel is right.)
There are parts of me
I wish to be left
alone to fester -
left to take in
exactly what they give.
I know though,
there are always those
moments when parts
are made into the whole -
and they’re what
drives every motion,
every clasped hand,
and every bloodshot glance.
Beware:
there are those pieces
that shouldn’t be given place
in this mismatched mosaic.
I desperately need
serenity - I need peace.
But my mind won’t cease.
He shifted his gaze into the mirror—drawn in not by his own face, but by what the looking glass might say. He stared deep within the grass-green globes of his own face, waiting for another dark presence to sprout. He saw nothing, and out of a sense of nervousness, he glanced again at the ticking guardian of his life. He’d been staring for ten minutes, and hadn’t even noticed.
“Well then, isn’t that something else.”
Clear as day, the voice shook his ears—a strange voice, seemingly all too familiar to him. He quickly looked again into the mirror, expecting to see the likes of the monster who had stirred. Yet there was nothing. Only his own face, with the green eyes and dark circles underneath. Only this time, as he looked intently into the corridors of his mirror, he did not recognize the face he knew to be his. It looked out of place, like it was only a memory—foggy and fading. It….was terrifying. He almost wanted to scream, and he truly could not understand why.
Why.
Why.
He decided it was best to leave; he no longer felt it was a good idea to look for the monster—to search for the source of his terror, to find the demon in the corner of his eye. Bed was something that he hadn’t known in four days. He hoped that maybe his imaginary monsters would let him sleep tonight. Through the fear, through the panic. He turned off the lights, slipped into bed, and held his blankets close—like they were his cross against the undead. His eyes were closed—and he finally was on the verge of peace.
“You’ll figure it out someday! You’ll figure US out,” the man shrieked, and wide eyed; that same man that lied in bed. And he watched his new day of torture arrive.
Well aren’t you
just the kind of
jailed, and caged bird,
to sing a song
for others and
your captors.
Or, am I wrong?
What were you
back when
you could just
simply turn, and with
grace,
f
l
y ?
a
w
….. a
I’ve been living for
3 weeks like I did
back 3 years ago.
I sit in bed till 12;
I fail to eat,
I don’t want to eat,
and I’m then up,
and devouring the
fridge itself.
Nothing takes in
my attention;
I turn on a game to
play, and it’s like
I’m timing myself
to see how long
it takes for
me to throw
the controller down and
turn everything off—
because some guy
has played for 3
years longer, and can
be what you wanted
to be.
After that, I’m left
wobbling about,
angry and bored,
so I sit on my
computer—trying
to find something
to shove into my eyes,
or ears, or heart.
I get restless still,
and leave that screen,
and I go to a blank page
hoping to finally
drain my mind
of the ideas I’ve cultivated
all my life, it seems.
I fail, again,
and instead
of calling up a
publisher,
I write up
some words in
a row—calling it poetry.
I’m trying
to change these
next weeks,
but I can only
escape habit so much.
Bzzzzz.
Ca-chk.
Hello?
”..…it..s…
…….”
Oh -
it’s you.
”Hey,
so….
um,
I’m
sorry,
ya know
that right?”
I know.
It doesn’t matter.
You know that -
right?
”.…yeah.”
”I just…..”
…..
..what?
”I wanted
to hear your voice.”
”That’s all.”
Okay then.
Here it is.
Goodbye.
Ca-chk
beep-beep-beep-beep
Yeah.
I guess that’s
all that can
be said
now.
*click.
i started seeing black -
a dangerous cloud
of self-doubt and regret -
but I pushed it all back
just in time
because you gave this rhyme
a reason.
