junkyard confessions and insight beyond her days
rounded thoughts and fingers that run deep
and no single thought to remark in the brilliance
of this time to find her line
on a day (windy and cold)
she remarks and closes the call
and enters the next phase
of it all…
more than not a rupture of closed moments
only found more addressed than thought
but thinking that goes through ways I don’t
have to remember so much…
the speaking doorway is the only one remembered
intertwined with the heretic and the broken ledges I fall from time to time
how guitar sounds like the unfaithful moments of all the damages done
reiterating the way time changes in the distance and I just listen
to it all
as if it stood still….
I have a mile of fear that isn’t coercive
To anything but moving forward
And ideologies less adorned
And I find myself at a stopping point
Of what I should expect
And what I should just be OK with
And never does the truth filter down my leg
Like a dirty little thought that comes
From deep rooted side-notes
And not sure where I go from here
Not sure if I ask
Or just do
Or just lie down and say -
I’m through…
In the midst of the midnight flights
The radio seems so lost
In words that I can’t speak
when I do nothing –
The moment reaches
Its feet
And me – the moment
with you – the radio
Closed toe movements and a record
With a dial tone and a fit-to-be-tied booth
Not real sure where the moment is taking us
But, isn’t that the beauty
Of the symbiotic truth…
Beginning to counter-culture the white walls
That only find me when I’m not looking
Oh, how I miss….
The ground -
When did it all seem to find me
Amazing graces
All the way to the spit that trickles
Down my leg
When I forget to swallow
And the fangs
Seen only when I look at the others
But why do I want to cuz
There is no miss and how I can’t figure
Out this fire door that I’m jumping through…
When the trouble comes down
It’s the bottom, me and my whiskey can
I can’t seem to abbreviate my emotions
This early on a Monday
Only one thing can condone such mind clutter
And the overcompensation for approvals
Unwarranted and unneeded – but me, my bottom
And the unnecessary …
The parade of pangs and rot-judgment
Let loose of me….
Cradled in darkness and only
The thoughts to reach out
And challenge me…
One day gone
And a dozen more to go…
Sea
sons direct me to the movement of your skin
Blowing through the benevolence of the weekends
As I spill into your voice
And wrap me with your smell
Seeing the seasons change like the
Paint that drips from my walls of thought
like an ocean of you and the sentences
I sought
that filter through
like a melody of rivers
when I gaze into the bodies
I swim and the one
I need and want – is you…
Filled with the moment of annoyances
And all around single-celled bodies
That I just want to scream through
Like a little daunting bark
That never seems to bite
In a tolerable pattern of shit
And a dollar for everyone
That cares…
Rambling in my ear
The voices of one, two or
More of nothingness that
Some thrive on
And what embodies
Importance makes me cringe
When I look out…
 | gstarene on White nothingness… |
 | Eugene on Sifting through…. |
 | Sandra on escalating bounds |
 | Skunk on Cradled… |
 | Alexis on Rehearsing nostalgic feed… |
