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| Electronic Surgical WordsLost Notes To Someones Self:
Why do I keep returning to
this? This horrible car wreck. This moment in time, frozen
forever. A gravestone. A mile marker. Something I will
never get past. A constant reminder kept around so as to always
remember: "I fucked up". I want to feel your hands.
Strange, I want to touch your skin and feel home again. So many
things we should have talked about. In a lifetime I could not
find the courage to carve out the words trapped in my lungs.
Choking on the most simple of statements. A beautiful love.
Cold
winter day. Mid February. Awoke. Sound of an alarm
echoing throughout the house. Late for work. No, just won't go in
today. Last night wanting so badly to sleep in the snow.
Now hiding inside from the blustery air. The gas station is out
of smokes. The good kind, anyway. Settling for grandma's brand.
100's. The long burn. Waiting on something. Someone.
To break this ungraceful silence. How the music barely fills the
space, making the silence seem more impregnable. Saturnity that
falls over this apartment, only suffocates the sound of my own breath.
My heartbeat drowning in this whiteout, blurring all words. Time
now when everything seems so distant from my fingertips. The
world pulling away. And I in turn pushing with all my
might. So as to not be found out. So as not to incite
curiousity in strangers. To keep questions to a bare
minimum. The smile. The laugh. The movements staged
so perfectly.
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| I've been neglecting this.
Putting it all off for far too long.
No one cares anyway right?
I mean how silly is this? Posting stupid writings of things that pop into my mind.
ah
you've been lost from me forever darling.
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| sometimes I think I've already drown.....
missing all of you out there | | |
| Rosary beads
clasped tightly in folded hands.
A prayer before you close your eyes tonight
thinking back on last year.
Water embracing the shoreline
makes for interesting filler in conversation.
Hand shakes
for apologies that words can't make.
Kissing the marble stone
because too much has been said already.
Staying up until dawn
when you've given the reason.
From the back of dark eyes
telling there was nothing left.
Disimilarities filling the air
we'll never be the same again.
Suspending stars with our breath
free fall into dark pools.
Kiss finger tips
bite the skin from cuticles.
Godless eyes
piercing into his shadows.
...
Some
things don't need to be finished. Mid sentance I leave you dangling on
my unfulling words. Let them fade into your ears and through thin air.
Walk away without shutting the door. There's nothing left to look... | | |
| “You can turn the headlights off now...” (--R.Majors)
The point when the clouds give up,
tearing themselves open,
such a public display.
The nights when I could tell you anything,
cold hands turning skin into gooseflesh
and I just stare straight up.
The sun has turned her face away,
a bloody setting on a dismal skyline
lets us know the night is on her way.
When all the rain has been used up,
suddenly everything is desiccated,
making way for pin-pricked achromatic skies.
Headlamps are no use now
they can’t cut through such pious air,
so we just envision ourselves past the city line.
Buildings and hilltops carving themselves,
something better than barren,
periling vacant mid-western story boards.
How I want to know every crease in this scene,
laying flat on a dark rooftop,
counting shooting stars above my head.
Wearing that slight smile that appears out of tedium,
when nothing else has claimed victory
so it collapses on my lips.
A metropolis I knew so well,
how could I have turned away so deliberately,
a place where questions form only when answers are articulated.
Where it is too cold for the month of May
but a bare midriff hardly takes notice
when cold aluminum siding licks at exposed skin.
I know she’s up there somewhere,
as thinly stretched clouds part ways
the moon bleeds silvern hues onto everything.
The point when eyes can finally adjust,
pupils absorbing all the light there is,
a state of diffused illumination will persist. | | |
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