To the Wonder

Muffled mistakes taking their toll,

sounding bells, ringing louder.

Lies gushing out,

breaking like a levee.

Here in lies myself,

lost and beaten by beauty and dream.

Bloody and pulped like a bass drummed face,

raw emotion,

intolerant and stupid.

Here in lies myself,

knifed open and questioning.

And it seems a waste to wonder when the answers

are only in the thing we won’t do.

Destruction

Lovely lies from lush lips,

I listen and break apart the words

like a leaf ripped from a tree.

Shattering and scattering, spreading the news.

And everyone is just breeding the only thing they seem to know how—

destruction, of one form

or another.

And it all makes it so hard

to listen to

anyone.

Nothing is Established

Sirens are screaming through the holes of a screen,

and I find faces beyond the mirrors’ edge.

Scattered sparks from cigarettes,

fond moments lost,

guitars screeching

with scattered thoughts.

Music and

the past are poisoning my brain,

and nothing is established.

Fenceless fields—

all too vast to roam without mistrust,

the child in me still remembers fear.

But I don’t know what I’m afraid of?

Answers are far too easy to find,

like car keys left on the counter.

 

Dancing with a Dress

These neighborhoods are inflamed with the glow of streets lamps,

lighting up the air like red clay on jeans, like a table cloth in a small cornered kitchen,

like bloodshot eyes in silence.

And it’s as if I was covered in blood,

dirty, guilty, and motionless—

drowning in a bottle of wine, frozen in a ruby, or fading into the sunset.

Just dancing with a dress and cleaning up the mess.

And then, it’s as if I had never been at all,

that this dream had been rung dry and left behind to burn,

a relief perhaps?

Most likely.

But then the world reappears,

and red is in the air by humming street lamps–nothing else.

And it’s late and I’m quiet,

and the neighbors are asleep.

 

And all I can think about is,

why do colors mean so much to me?

And how can people sleep so early?

Raindrops

Amongst this thick, blinding fog,

there are raindrops floating on my jacket—

and you are running in the grassy field.

Your ankles disappear below the earth.

Taken, and if for only a moment left you suspended

in the air, floating like an angel.

Off in the distance, I watch

you. Drunken, ashamed, and haunted

by all the things I have seen,

all the people who have left me cold,

staying upon me like the rain.

And you, an angel who glows brighter

in the dark of the night, who swirls with the fog

and sits with the dew.

Where are you going?

You, who has never been born past time.

And who’s only fear is to idle willingly.

I have no wings to join you, I am rooted by sin.

I have no song to sing you, I am muted to hymn.

I have no arms to hold you, I am locked and chained.

I have only eyes to watch you fly, as I remain.

And I wish I never saw you, for then I could be the same.

Be There No Way

Be there no way to tell you,

I am holy empty from the thought.

And the touch of a woman, the feel of skin,

be there no way to say it,

I’m ashamed of the thought.

Fire from people, flames and fury,

be there no way to use it,

I put out the thought.

Edging my mind are feelings left tortured,

to be made use of, to be explained or be an example.

Corroding the corners and building up a case.

And be there no way to say them,

they stay there,

and remain.

And others just die as thoughts.

Perhaps like this.

Still

I’m listening to music I loved before

I died before.

You’re the only face I can remember now.

Still.

And nothing has changed,

the sidewalks draw the same cracks,

the rain pools in the same puddles,

the coats are more cool than warm.

City streets, coasts away

and I feel like I could touch you.

Still.

Will I remember you when I die again?

What song will it be,

that breaks my heart and makes me remember

a life and a love I lost?