The last thing I'd want is to return,To be forced to continue this game,To be trapped in this limbo of life,Forced to repeat this cruel shame.I'd rather let go of it all,This miserable, endless tirade,Condemn myself to some rest,Sleep in the bottom of my grave.
Tag: Prose-Poetry
No Partnership Survives Fame
Once, we took our pens to cut our throats,Spill our blood onto the kitchen tile,So that we could write poetry with our toes,And allow us the chance to finally be free,That we might die die die to feel alive. But publicity makes all of us turncoats,And all those stupid posts've gone viral,As it starts isn't … Continue reading No Partnership Survives Fame
To Nowhere and Back
The engine turned over at last, proceeded by a hoarse round of cheers. The New Year had come and gone huddled in the back of the old Honda, a burbling hookah and a crushed pack of old cigarettes (Quit smoking or quit buying, eh?) our only source of warmth. Our passing savior and her oversized … Continue reading To Nowhere and Back
Retirement Strategies
I've struggled to see,The sunset of my career,As anything more than death. Honored teacher says,"A righteous man finds his peace,Only as a hollow corpse." My thoughts grow foggy,Like the wooded path leadingTo this idle hermit's home. For once in your life,Be content with well-earned sleep,And rest on your laurels, fool.
Third Eye
I'm a tightly-wound knot of fear,Silently growing,Ever the smaller,Yet ever the denser,Like a cancer that grows inward,A gleaming pearl of horror,Lodged deep withinThe center of my mind.
As long as it takes
My fingers curl and spasm,Unable to stitch together these fragments,My imagination, my memories,Into a single breath of time,So I'll wait,Until the pain passes,As long as it takes.
Friends
A friend in need is,Still a friend indeed,And I need a friend.
My Name is Lost
I am resigned to the thought,That one day I will be lost,And the final memory of my name,Will be the stray recollections of a cat,Eating beneath a picnic table,Where our my name is carved,Made by fumbling hands,Too drunk to care that,"It's such a cliché!"Egged on by your teasing,Commemorating these little moments,That quickly fade in time,Until … Continue reading My Name is Lost
Patchouli Dreams
Patchouli dreams stir old memories,Like pulling old photo albums from the shelf,Dusty, grainy, somehow burned,But that's because one of us keeps trying,Keeps trying to burn this memory down,But I'll save it,I'll remember,Even if I'm all that's left,Of this broken home we built,In an Autumn of long ago.
Stranger in a Strange Land
I walked the steps that Aramais built,His bones settling still in the dampness of the dream.My mouth was hidden in dry wrappings of the dead,For the shroud hid that which Unspoken covet so.In my hands I carried the only weapons permitted,The pen and book,For those like me,Chroniclers from the Skin of the World,We avoid the … Continue reading Stranger in a Strange Land
Discarded Recollections 