Walk, Talk and Breathe.

Friends that refuse to respect of me,
the smallest of ways that I ask to be,
excused from their own stupidity,
yet – they choose to abuse,
and they find these things funny…
A family turned to the judge and jury,
no hand extended in my times of need,
the after-burn of that first, initial sting,
the day I noticed they were on an opposing team…
Others play the friendly role all too regularly,
to the point it’s obvious there’s no true identity,
behind any of the faces in the places close to me,
just life-sized puppets that walk, talk and breathe…

Wet Shore.

547f28c8a2dd2d87511187be3807f916-d5z6h2yI dreamed of it before…
it was a while ago, though;
I sat in whipping winds,
wrapped tightly within,
a blanket on a beach;
and I’m doused in gasoline…
I sit there almost alone,
but not quite by myself…
I sat on the sidelines next to somebody else,
as the sincerity in her mossy green,
eyes, capsized and captivated me,
as she played me music telepathically…
I began to realize something;
here, on the shores of a tumbling sea,
she hasn’t come to this place,
put out any fires I’d,
planned on lighting,
nor has she been sitting,
opposite of me – listening,
to the endlessly,
venomous spattering,
that define all of me…
no, she’s not here,
to clean up my mess tonight,
only to simply “be”;
on the shores of a tumbling,
promising ocean shimmering,
colors of me-her, blue-green;
as she plays me music,
and streams it directly into me,
reflexively,
unexpectedly,
the muscles all over my body,
begin to sag with ease,
exhaustion reigns supreme…
and I lean into,
the mental melody;
as the moment passes,
I recall the book of matches,
clutched in the hand of me,
as I think to strike one –
begins a new verse to her song,
the realization forcefully dawns,
upon my matches and gasoline…
she knows she won’t talk me down,
try,
try again,
in the end, nobody will win…
so in place,
of rearranging my face,
to rope me safely in,
she provided the gas,
clever kick in my ass,
but to her own detriment;
she hates the ocean,
hates the lack of control…
she knew my fire wouldn’t burn,
very long on the seashore.