More poemtries...


Putting Off

So you catch the glimpse
of my dark corners,
the doubt and fear
that would eat me
if I had no lights.

Does it scare you?
Are you suddenly
unsure of me,
and my new breed of quiet?

In all the hope and wishing,
somedays it's just too much,
and there is lost in me
some forlorn resolve,
and I am bitter.

Bitter to taste, and
be thought of.

The world around me
spins in bright colors,
some fascinating glow...
and I will paint it.

But it is not part of me.
Not today.

I curl up
on the corner of my bed
in a dark lit,
half-spun room.

Where trying to sleep
is the key to forget,
and music drowns
all the tears away.


Stalks and Bonds...

I disentangled myself
from the cunning, tentacled malignancy
that wound recumbant on my sanity.

Some malcontent found boredom
and eagerly they bred,
to create an unfathomable restlessness.

Dragging narcoleptic emotions
I embarked on the reparition
of this corpulent disaster
that had petrified my moving on.

I was left to loiter
amidst pedantic delusions of adequacy.

It was an imperative discovering -
I learned nostalgia for progression
and the burn of past effort gave me
a recognition, a thawing of my feet.

Discrepancies between was and will
lay scattered in botched reconcilliation
with once well-founded mulling-over. Breaks.

I garbled in acknowledgement of wrongs,
the heraldic sound of my own admittance;

the irridescent pang of possibility
lay jagged on the forks and winds ahead.

I would kindle a fire that stings me -
lambasted with inspiration and drive,
motivation needles its way out of my skin.

Opalescent: decision's mark was pressed to my lips,
paranoia exorcized,
its gaping wound soothed of queries
and salubrious doubt -

its umbilical ties to all fear.
Victory,
hides beneath the first inch onward.



Insighed

What grimness swallowed?
Its processes eaten through
the trembled inner walls of me.
Marauding as some better thing;
ran rampant in the electric spirals of my mind.
beholden to the glare of imposed shackling.
Was there some tryst in the shadows
that I mistook as a deeper thing?
The unabashed way I let it sink me.
Imps and demons parley for my soul.
It was illodged in my eager trust.
Now I find a rush for departing,
the impositious need of flight.


Weeps Wild

Razed enigma,
empty stares.
Saturated vessels,
the verification blooms.
Blood weeps wild starvation.
Silence haunting the hoarded eyes.
Eager misconceptions,
the mastication of ideals
irks my brooding.


The Lonli

Always this constant gnaw -
a cage for some trapped, starved thing.
It eats my bars and fights pointless
to die empty;
always conscious of the lock on the outside,
of the morbid oggling from eager-eyed spectres:
haunting their humanity so self-important
from the corners of their bodies...
consumed in their tininess
by the convincing of wretched importants.
Is there not a full to fill me?
No softness, whole-half
that will slip piece by piece
between bars,
to cradle aching dark.


Initially...

instead she fades so
loosely into shadow,
outside the biting cold, the dark:
verify her slipping,
each moment counted in the
downward spiral of glorious flake,
drawn dark and so soundproof.
a poison seeps out some vein,
no anti-venom for what
lingering way rejection irrigates my inner webbing.
overdid the underdoing, never
told him the way
the lights - reflected - so trembled in my eyes.


(untitled, written yesterday)

Variegated resignation
gnaws my sodden consternation.
snarling teeth tear vegetation,
tendons, skin...no hesitation.
The deepest writhe of his eschewing
distills some dew in lack of doing.
Airy linger scents of brewing,
o'er the picturescent viewing.
Eager races a stone distance
marbled by one's legs' resistance.
Are we always shackled to existence?
Perplexing, our plodding persistence.
Wearied, worn, and ground to tatters
a heart no longer holds what matters...
beneath it proof in bloody spatters:
the wretched refuse when hope shatters.
So e'er long I weave forlorning
in threads and fibers for adorning
the teeming shores of plea and mourning.
Yet between strands myself I'm scorning.
And in confusion I will end
a poem written for a friend,
and pour heart-words I've never penned
o'er a confession I'll never send.


Blanks Stretches of White

Vile frozen flaky whiteness
icily slides down my throat,
and deadens some inner me.
Gnaws me wholly,
lifts me to the place where
you can see you are
finally free, liberated.
So you go.
Flit off to that glimmer in the dark,
that glint of something in your eye.
I age before I'm old.
It wrinkles at all you love.
A depth of me I know you love.
You love me when I'm ignorant,
when I need you.

Sickly sleet, it freezes me in slow spiderwebs.
Left dry...you leave me dry.
You left me barely whole. Wholly bare.
It all comes down, down to one line.
A stone freezes to watch you.
As it often is: it's all you love.
The deeper in I go, you love.
You love me when I'm ignorant.

So here, I'm going. I'm digging me deeper.
Here I dig me,
buried in the snow.
Buried by the me you love.


Sweetly Shattered

I wandered in your noticing,
doubt is huddled, no one leaves.
It's clear to me, so obvious,
the way you'll carve her
into so many pieces.
You shatter her so sweetly,
so sweetly,
she is shattered.

Catch my fall in veins,
pain stays, some secure sleeping.
It's clear to me, so obvious
you could be carving her to pieces.

And I watch me sweetly shattered.
shattered sweetly,
so completely.


Signals

Pondering your pointed comments.
Thought slipped to the subject of shame -
and it made me laugh, how you said
sometimes it's better not to stay
if you surely feel nothing,
it's better, for you, this way.
You say.
Have you found the place you can't breathe?
It's that last word...
and I watch you understand.

We're here,
at the final signal.
Here we are,
at the last thing to say.

The light fed our inner flame,
the sunset hues
winding so tightly in the trees,
found us at opposite ends,
and our points were different...
we deferred.
Who knew why?
I can't escape myself,
there's no way you can just fall away.
It's the place where you feel nothing.
Your eyes scream to me
the final signal.


Fallen

If you lose,
wound in the tangled web
woven of your lust,
and the binding
of your own desire
...grace-distant.

If you call him,
the music will wake you.
Your eyelids rebel
in the blinding light.
Something burns all the sun again.

What use is life around here?
Things are so dangerous
on your own.

Something good,
dies early.
Dies before the second song.

But when you fall,
you slide from grace.
The beautiful things dim
In the half-light of your
folded faliling
Away from grace...
What beauty to discover.