Wait.
No matter the cause,
It will come
When it does,
And you will know.
Pushing
Wears you out,
And keeps you from
Living.
Be whole.
I See Your Struggle
There is a fire in you
I wish I could calm -
Wrap around you and erase the day’s drama,
And show you good
To keep away the gloom
That ignites in you a fragment of dissent.
There is a part of you
I wish I could control,
Yet let you live your story as you see it,
Learning for yourself…
Heartland
Air shifted, leaving
Gray-green shade over thoughtless sky -
It traces a line over land, picking up pressure.
Low-hanging wall shows face on the horizon,
Pulling down to show its vast rotation,
Moving limb and life in circulation.
Wind races through in whistles,
Causing stir -
Bringing threat
While eastward skies still show the remnants
Of sunlight.
Neighbors finish cigarettes on wicker chairs,
Waiting for the show, in their own calm.
Worn
I have nothing more to show,
Or tales to tell of wary deceit.
Of all transgressions motored in the blistered day
Turned to light, or passive intellect to warm your waiting brain.
What is it but my own?
A choice, or a figment of one
That hides beneath my lips and tears away their precious youth.
The months are nothing to me now, but tender scars,
Yet here it is – the truth.
Argument
I pulled away,
Laughed inwardly at its ridicule.
How do we find truth, but to overcompensate?
One direction
Then the other.
When I don’t know the way,
I sit;
But this time?
There is a scar on the wall.
A memory of the close dilution,
Formed:
A pressure building in my throat
With a threat of vacancy.
A screech of satisfaction
Muddled by the noise,
To separate.
I fell into place
In that quiet,
Making sense from nothing.
It was a choice.
Daydream
A filtered light
After days, drudged over by the downpour.
Did we forget about the sun?
Its fluid motion of perspective?
One afternoon
Filled the sky, teasing our skin into imagination.
A gust,
Then, chilled to the core,
Darkness came.
Long hours to await,
Forgetting spring
Until arrival,
It seems I had forgotten about the stars…
Infirm
Each time, a gray cover clouding the breeze,
Indemnified by the distant whir.
Looking behind,
Where friction loses grip
And falls away -
A dove, making itself known,
Or the shadowed pigment of insomnia.
Each time, another crack in the material justice,
The comedic gaze of the effervescent glow.
To hold, setting placement,
Lets go.
A moving function regulates
The patterns,
Each one a partial reality,
Parodied by social ruin.
But finds light
Where none should be.
Fail-safe
I spoke, as a single voice, a
Perfectly defiant gesture:
To admit,
And refresh the flickering light
To its furthest corners.
He furrowed, his forehead a mess of folded skin,
Denying pleasure.
I picked at the words, like weeds
Growing over the surface,
Recklessly.
Splitting in two the unfortunate veins,
There was an empty pull,
And I slept.
He muttered an indifferent phrase,
Pressed by
Solicitude.
To fight away
Incessant motion
For a cause.
How do they reach their violent end
So peacefully?
Untitled
Afraid of the sober distinction
Inside the lines;
Her replicate moves,
Relighting
The intricacies
Of the detrimental sound.
She feels her skin,
Warmth lifting away,
Fear
Drawing aside the knowledge of peace.
A meticulous instruction
Powers
The journey.
Held Up
She told the drama of days -
The way they took apart her life
In sequential waves;
And how slowly it collects, when
Fighting a cause.
Years had passed.
A calming of dimensions, pulling close
Sweet grins of fancy…
And, yet, hers is fleeting as a system;
Chewing on the limpness
Of trouble.
She holds out her hands,
Feels the rain.
