Chase.

I once told you I hoped that you wouldn’t chase,

the path made by my footprints as I ran away,

not to follow my feet as they endlessly tread,

places called “home” in my paranoid head,

your eyes used to follow my eyes,

As they darted about the night skies,

you’d trace a pinky down my cheeks,

Down the trails from tears deemed obsolete,

do not follow my confused insanity,

into the cursed forest of ancient trees,

I don’t want you to see as I mindlessly carve,

indecipherable messages into their bark,

I‘d rather that you might remember times,

when I still held a more lucid state of mind,

as I was back when I first asked of you

to someday cut me completely loose,

back when my feet could not yet carry through,

with any of the deeds that I still have to do,

do not falter in those old promises now,

you must override your heart, somehow,

you must stifle the desire you’ve come to feel,

to follow me into the darkness of Hell,

I’d rather you carry on in the warmth of the sun,

to pick up, dust off, and carry on,

Past all the times that your foolish pride,

had you believing that we were solidified,

but it’s time to defy what we feel inside,

just let go and let yourself bleed for a while,

the loss will fade eventually,

same as my footprints into the trees,

you must finally stop any pursuit of me,

and let me self-fulfill this unwell prophecy.

 

 

 

Identify.

I told you
didn’t I?
you know
I had to try…
to hold onto
my own
hell-bent
detriment…
so indeed
and, earnestly
I let the
arrows fly…
loosed carelessly
to describe
my over-tired
and broken mind
there it was…
no doubt
all laid out
to scale
and personalized
to the very
best ability
of me –
personified…
yet, it’s trifling,
a novel compound
like your loyalty
unwieldy…
weighing down
wrought-iron-bound
an anchor  
drowning me…
I tried
early on,
to say why
spelled out
in bold lettering…
to emphasize
with clarity
such shortcomings
like to mine…

 

Loosed Arrows.

A remastering,
of such forgotten arts,
as those of loosed arrows,
leaving holes in my heart.

The rekindling,
of old smoldered flames,
as those of loosed arrows,
shooting darts at my name.

The reawakening,
of long-sleeping eyes,
as those of loosed arrows,
blowing through all the lies.

A reacquainting,
with the shadows left behind,
as those of loosed arrows,
become lodged in my mind.

A reintroduction,
to all I escaped from hopefully,
as those of loosed arrows,
are shot through both knees.

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…

Razor-Wire.

You wanted it…
you just had to get,
you begged for it:
a piece of me…
and then, that was it –
I did accept,
the invitation sent,
maybe ungraciously…
I showed up one day,
when the skies were grey,
guess you hadn’t been,
expecting me…
but there I was,
plenty of space
to smash in your face…
and put an end,
to the pretend,
of any friendship,
between us…
I am a lover,
but I am also,
a quick drawn shot,
one or the other,
and that is all I’ve got,
You asked for it…
you had to push the ticket,
couldn’t let it be,
had to poke and prod at it…
the red tape around the lips,
the sign that restricts,
exactly this type of,
unnecessary bullshit,
you ignored the gates,
the locks,
the razor-wire fence,
went on past the sirens,
blazing loudly out against…
disregarded everything,
spelled out for you,
in white and black,
bold lettering…
so don’t complain,
wipe them away,
crocodile-tear-stains,
throw it away,
and sink into
your own world again,
wasted away,
I forgot your name.

River.

I’ve got this thing,
attached to the feathers
of my tattered, right wing;
it’s tickling and itching…
causing me to careen;
through the air,
in disrepair;
everyone down there
watching me.
I’ve got this weight,
that drags my feet
in reverse, towards my fate;
it’s beckoning and ordering…
that I bow down, and subjugate;
kiss the toes,
belonging to those;
who refuse to let me go
and be free.
I’ve got these eyes,
tuned to a frequency
that perfectly filter the lies;
barreling and swooping…
along, at their’ sides;
so invisibly,
no one else can recognize
but I see.
I’ve got this shrapnel splinter,
burrowed deeply into my skin
through summer, spring, fall and winter;
humbling, digging deep,
all it takes to make a slice, is a sliver;
moon hanging,
above the raging river
bleeding all over me.

Eating Thorns.

All this time

in between

then and now

been simmering

been building up

rather patiently

brooding silently

been grinding teeth

been stomping feet

been digging holes

with an upward swing

eating poisonous thorns from trees

like it’s sugarcane

with Mexico’s best peyote

cigars and syringes

sparkling fringes

champagne, cocaine

and pornography

somewhere out there

fathomed too deep

where I hardly sleep

but my eyes stay closed

my mouth remains sewn

over words of my own

this place is forsaken

this space can’t be taken

the loose change shaken

from the secret pockets

sewn inside my cheeks.