,
Whiptail fun times,
She laid back and threw that hair
Fire doesn’t have that shade,
Red on shimmer on length,
A fold on the mobius loop,
No drinks for breakfast man, reality is already soup.
She’s got a lily to her eye,
A tone to her smile,
Edge to her skullmeats,
Nothing average, not at all.
Beggars for fun,
And in a whisper,
Airy as a feather,
“Let’s do without the sorrow for awhile.”
Why is it that my words echo with such deep longing and feel so true,
But my actions call to task each syllable, each letter, each sentence,
Make me a liar in my own eyes, and shame me to the one I love.
Why is it that I regret each moment of time that I connect to another,
When I know that it will end in tears, that it will end in sadness, in another broken heart,
Because inside I never seem to change from the disgusting thing I’ve always been.
Why is it that the outside which feels so pure and grasps for grace blessed with integrity is so sweet,
When foulness runs afoot on seconds of impulse, chased spots of purgatory, whims of fancy,
Forever haunting myself with the tastes of beauty that I want the world to see me for.
That I think I can be.
But I deceive myself worse than all the rest.
I can never change.
So it seems.
And only God can forgive me in the end.
For I can never forgive myself.
-S
Living like a cat last summer,
Couldn’t afford sheets or real food,
But the room was a soft pink,
And the lumpy mattress felt softer than the bricks.
Living like a cat I was,
Crawling under piles of clothes to nap,
Eating cans of tuna (pocket sized),
Basking in the sun so the shade felt cooler.
Cat life is great for those critters,
But at 6’+ and a bundle of seething “more,”
It’s feline for some but didn’t sit right on me,
So I’ll gladly hand it back this time around.
Feeling a bit more canine today.
Though cans of tuna still roll free,
I have a forever human to lick,
Hopefully I’ll get older than a pup –
— goddamn pet control still wants to lock me up.
Some sing songs of longing,
Blazing with desire to find or be found.
A lonesome call to remove the isolation,
From the desperate state of silent night.
For others,
Absent are the sounds once felt.
Or missed because of poor choices.
To have loved and lost is a blessing,
To lose a love over choices given away,
Hurts the way that pain self-inflicted does.
Unswayed by pleas for mercy,
Nowhere to misdirect the blame.
I want to know my daughter,
But all I feel is shame.
Not at the beauty she is sure to be.
Surely not at the creative gleam in her eye.
Not her brilliant hand that will craft a world,
Or her soft skin that will feel the kiss of life daily.
The shame is a shattering indulgence.
A reminder striking loudly of what could have been,
Of where I should have been.
Wanted to be, and missed the closest moments with her –
And those can never be reclaimed.
Because she doesn’t know who daddy is –
And maybe doesn’t even know that I’m not there.
I’m sorry Anya.
I love you even if we aren’t together yet.
Small note – even though I only have a short call with her and my son weekly, she spit out a “dada” for me. 🙂
I want someone to look at me like the stars shine in my eyes Like by my light they can see everything more clearly As if I illuminate even the darkest and most desperate of skies Brilliantly lighting up the night with my happiness To tell me that he’d like to lie in the curve […]
https://seremdipitous.wordpress.com/2016/06/23/stars-in-my-eyes/
Affection like a puppy, but with pulsars for eyes. Love it. – S
Misha
Spoken word for a special someone who holds me together when I’m on the edge. I don’t know what I’d do without. With heartfelt thanks, and wishing you the recognition you deserve.
Spoken word is coming shortly…if you haven’t seen it, I’d really love to hear some of your own work…take a look at the Studio34 for the listing if you don’t see it a post or two down. Cheers!
She told me in a voice that wants for something more,
“I’m stuck with you and you with me,
But I don’t want to be stuck,
I just want to be happy.”
Simple words of wisdom,
Drop out the only mouth from which I tend to listed.
All around life is in tatters again,
It’s a battle of just going and going,
Churning up the ground as I try for traction.
People ask if I even know what I want,
It would be easier to drop my head in the sand,
No one wants to be confronted by the fact,
That survival doesn’t constitute a plan.
No goals
Just obligations.
Another sick hollow spot,
Self-indulgent in wasted life,
A never ending emotionless vacation.
The idea of walking a road with no end in sight,
Sounded so peaceful when I was younger.
I can’t be old enough to be this tired,
Those thoughts drag my feet,
Mired in mud six feet deep.
When you’re bound to the pipes,
The needles, the bottles, the pinners, the caps, the strips, the tabs and the doses,
The misery never knowing, always moving,
Chaotic insecurity, discomfort and the fear –
It’s easy to lose yourself in the haze,
No rag can clean vision so glazed.
Occasionally you need a multi-colored head of hair to show you that there is still more to be had.
That whatever tomorrow brings,
It’s worth holding steadfast to belief in something better.
Even if you have to lean on each other to get there.
She told me in a voice that wants for something more,
“I’m stuck with you and you with me,
But I don’t want to be stuck,
I just want to be happy.”
Blistering heat from a liquid sun,
That has burned up thoughts,
My eyes, their soul and my fun.
What brought on this sanguine approach?
Lost crouching and encroaching on sad joys and lost hope,
I’ve spun out my wheels into newly made glass,
Sand heated to molten,
Razing a shimmering patch.
Skidded to halt over stones constructed as ruts,
My misery shines through soaked in blood, tears, and guts.
Systematic breakdown of holy while high,
Head snapping, throat shaking, body trembling, while I –
Stagger to golden notes,
Choke quietly on the last strand of hope,
Chase goals through my screams,
Praying each daymare fades to a dream,
Balance desperately on life’s beam.
Stable for now,
Scared to say how.
Each breath shoves me closer to the edge,
Welling up my sweet desperate pledge,
To my kids and myself –
“I’ll change this life to a road followed out of hell.”
My mind and spirit can shatter,
Leave me mad as Alice’s hatter –
And though clouds block her burn,
To touch that blistering heat of our liquid hot sun,
Is to what I aspire and yearn.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 