Pleased for a King.

Stand tall and silent in the face of me;
against the trickery of the Milky Way…
in compliance with the God of Defiance;
forget ever seeing me broken this way…

This prayer is born of necessity;
these pitiful tears turn out to be mine…
I again, come back to feel your whip crack;
I’ve been lost: following the eyes of blind…

Please grant to me: your moments asleep;
I’d be pleased if a King was to still dream of me…
don’t cast me too far beyond your sovereign reach;
please circle back for me, before you finally leave…

Without your presence of balance, I’ve lost my way;
I need your conversation and I want feel your kiss…
time to act, no holding back another single day;
what’s most important here is that we can still do this…

Palms up to push at the bottom of your heart;
but you cursed and swatted me away…
I bet you will look for me here eventually;
after I died waiting to see that “someday”.

Just a One-Page-Entry.

We…
you and me…
it turned out –
not quite so,
meant to be.

Feet…
carry me…
right on by –
the desire,
for familiarity.

Me…
I’m angry…
at the truth –
and the lies,
so eye-opening.

See…
the humanity…
finally drain –
of these veins,
I stand empty.

Be…
my history…
more vague –
with each day,
a memory.

Angel of Shame.

Sunny outside and seventy degrees…
Mother Earth’s butterfly kisses fluttering…
I am barricaded deep within bloody memories…
can’t I just be normal and somehow just feel happy? …
Another season’s campouts come and go again…
another click added between Life and the Wasteland…
the older I get, the less I relate to my once closest friends…
it’s just me and CPTSD – not much else worth any mention…
no matter the efforts always made in true vain…
I’ve carved years out of Life with just trying to stay sane…
after so many times of being burdened by false blame…
and being kicked in the face by the Angel of Shame…
it comes to a place where I’ve got nothing to give…
where each day is painful through grace that I live…
and each moment is nearly impossible to perceive…
where the only thing left is hope in which to believe.

Pleased for a King.

Stand tall and silent in the stardust;
against the trickery of the Milky Way…
in compliance with the God of Gods;
in regret of the very words I must say…

This prayer is born of necessity;
these pitiful tears turn out to be mine…
I have veered from the path in my travels;
I am guilty of following the eyes of blind…

Please grant me your moments asleep;
pleased for a King to still dream of me…
don’t cast me far from your sovereign reach;
please circle back round before you leave…

Without your wisdom, I lost my balance;
I need your presence and I want your kiss…
it’s not important to me how this gets done;
what’s important is that we can still do this…

Palms both up to rush the face of the clock;
in stone if they need to become that way…
I know that you will someday look for me here;
and I intend to be here for that “someday”.

Recollect.

I remember,
how you seemed,
to know exactly,
where you were going,
as you hurdled,
my front gate,
so self-assuredly,
then made your way,
to my front door,
and introduced,
yourself to me –
the day had,
been one: blazing,
triple digit heat,
the sun was setting,
you wore,
a handkerchief,
around your face,
like a handsome,
sweaty bandit –
it all happened,
no sooner than,
instantaneously,
and Gods Damn!
I love this man,
in the fade,
of daylight’s last stand –
there you came,
to stake in me,
an eternally,
standing claim,
I once told you:
that I am far too,
bat-shit crazy,
to fuck around with you –
you once told me:
that you fell for me,
after the first time,
that we,
got naked,
and sweaty –
late that night,
we lie in darkness,
you thought I,
was fast asleep,
when you were,
threatened,
with your very life,
at the notion of:
ever leaving me.

Between.

Between the rightful eyes – between the shaky lines;
Between courses of a meal in an old, echoic hall;
The greatest feasts had by the greatest beasts – the finest wines;
Between arms’ length and violation;
Between the pages of an unread book in a forgotten drawer;
Dread history lessons repeated; the tides of liberation.
Between questions – between answers;
Between the two regrets of having asked and being told;
The songs, singers – dances and dancers;
Between the vast and mysterious – between the frostbitten sheets;
Tangled fabrics tied into knots from the skins of human beings;
Between the endless, frozen depths and the bottoms of my feet.
Between the sea and sky – between the breath of you and I;
Between the crumbles of the bridges burned down along the way;
Between the long Hello and short, sweet Goodbye.