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Memnosyne
When upon the rocks the lightning strikes I find a hieroglyphic of something lost to my memory. I left this script behind as if I knew how to be a friend among friends. The puzzle, unfound, undying, left the little scars of where I had been before the night came. But even then, I kept quiet about the fool I kept guarded under layers of dust. When marigolds proliferate in the summer, when fortune is its own demise, when I reach down through the muddy river, sometimes I find the smooth stone of what I once was. Likened to a net of roots, grasping at the soil, dying to touch a piece of dioxide. Then it clears, the river, and I can sometimes see my reflection clearly like it was painted by someone who saw too deeply. The leaves fall in November, corresponding commitments to the ones we love. By action or by wishing, life returns to itself after this falling down, this hall of red lanterns, that signifies the slow unrolling that breaths life into life again.
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A Thanksgiving Prayer
The echo of silence, cannot take away this unwieldy binding that loves us and makes us whole. No black river can part the treeline. On every prayer I answered with yes please deliver, I was granted. Even though hair falls out, even though his words are mistaken, even though the stars sparkle in the cold fall wind. A weak man redeemed only by that which saw past the disgusting decrepitude. My gift is not seeing clearly. My gift is only what has been given. Lord, wrap me in your devilish arms and remind me how far I've always fallen. Without water, any fern wilts. Resurrection or no, withering on the vine does not help the future. I will be a crow on a wire singing songs to my brethren, to tell them the horrors I have witnessed. And then peck at the carcass I call my own. Lackluster, ambivalent, unworthy of the shine of the bright, but lit still. You have golden arms and a delicate fractured heart. I am not so lithe, clumsy in the waiting room. Wondering if anyone saw. Blood drawn from the arm, blood drawn from the breath, terrible humanness abides in this grace we last. Back established with cocky presuppositions and selfish promises. One day, I'll be an anchor and not a weight. One day my teeth won't be rotten from fraudulence. Commanding nothing but poor movement, exclaims to the excuses, pavement shamed with good deeds hoping for accolades. When all that's required is being there and sitting still, seeing what's really there. A perfect moment over too soon, endlessly echoing, hands clutched to chests fluttering in fear.
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Forget Me Not
The time is right to lay down the burden. Work is to be done, as the sun moves each morning. Even though pain never goes away, we learn to live with it. We can even learn to live with joy. Like darkness made visible by a pinprick of light. It seems less frightful to not go alone into the evening winter snow. When the moon comes down it will finally explode, or at least sleep for several days. Washing clothes is our repentance for soiled hands. Grace & gravel.
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Heads Up
I was not magnificent at all. Where does this road end? Hollow ink and forever unfree. Having everything you wanted, it feels like no thing. The grief comes at once. Flimsy reeds. Let us go, then vacant signs are ourselves. More true than art. How did this happen so many times. Sore from falling. Broken strings across the sea. Nearly portrait of some 17th century ne'er do well, it is well with my soul. Meeting my maker, not now, too savage high. Cracked, undone, moving on without moving. No shade even trapped in this apartment. Hell is yourself unfiltered. Gain from lonesome struggle, to be alone in bed with another, like I did anything to merit such mercy. This is the thing about dying: it doesn't really affect you. Until it does. Where does this end, where does this make sense, where does this enough make enough. This raft has fallen apart. To drown would be grace. Let the waters rise over me. Let the time consume me. Waited for the remedy, when it no longer works. Inhuman calumny, cast away the beliefs. Captain of nothing, capturing this barren coast, this fantasy, real time love, denied by the craving, to seem together. I am with myself too much. Lost them all, given so many, how to repair what can't be made whole. Ruminating on the black sweater unwound. The Baptist, the dog, the girl, the little lies I tell my shadow. A fragrant way of killing the mystery. Only an ether of me. Not really here. Just doing what I think others would have me do. Not even very rote upon the rope. Can i be another kind of man? Who was he who ordered those tickets. Collected books for the gospel, none matters but now. Vaping in my sleep. Now I know why he left a chew in at night. The only thing that matters now is how I treat. Slaying myself on my actions, correspondence with Mephisto all along. Stained moon, night comes too fast. Returns to you. Deaf dumb blind like grace, to have seen so much. This human life on wax. Wake up from this dream. Wake up from this selfish calamity trauma honored and fake eyelashes covering my soft skin. When the glass is broken, all that's left is your arms that I ignore. If only I could do enough to earn the seat. Except for pulling, sitting still, listening, collapsing. Put back together only by chance: the heart of those that love me despite. Kiss yourself goodbye when the windchimes play. Long mountain, the flood has ended if I'd stop swimming. Look, I bow down to the symbol but cannot carry it in my soul. Carried until ghost, merry wedding cake. Eat it with your flesh. Tastes like forgiveness or failure. If only fire could come down. To walk the coals again. Somehow differently. Without pretense. The shame is still there, even as I deny it. Gallantly lying to everyone. To be burned, the breast of the earth, holding this body aloft, articles of what necessary death. I try to hold my head up.
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Your Story
full rivers storms gather just asking coffee cup unknown grief silence still cats wander bed made-up religious trauma can't decide this betrayal freshness a wound falling down, like the rest of life have your cake & eat it too where are my friends around oh, right, gone seen all the new bad news in the living room household damage couches empty strained voices no goodbyes, have a good day do you ever want to keep riding find the old river that supplicates will you pick me up when i'm on my knees begging for me and you the rest is nothing wake up with tears can you hear me calling no words spoken too full of darkness where's the rising the light lighting i'm hoping on you some miracle of truth of recovering what i never had really trust never really ever amounted to much maybe this time maybe, prayers
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Lucid
The dying embers of
death in death, like
protracted arguments with
yourself in the mirror,
hands streaking the glass.
Last week I stopped breathing,
you went into a coma,
Israel bombed Lebanon,
and the NYSE kept circling.
Sleeping in your bed is where
I find myself that I had lost.
Legos fitting into place but
flesh, love like rabbits, cacooning
from your breath and your skin.
Like mine as usual. The same
patterns are exact. Crooked &
painful, corresponding to our
past. Spoiled moments, each
divided sheet soaked with
lube and tears. Never again
will the windows be open
for a storm like this.
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Might Even
So tragic, so early. If'n my plans hadn't gone to pot I might have the nerve to watch the trees bare naked in the winter wind. You know how the day escapes especially when you haven't got anything to do. Knowing that you loved me, I'm inured to the tragic fuse, a hand running through your hair, sweet suede carapace of the perfect hour I let escape me. That's just living, grace. I decided a long time ago I didn't want to be here. Yet the fire burns in us all, yet the Hamlet-ian paradox haunts this beggar for soup and soul. To make meaning from some thing. To make a kind of lovely art of falling apart. It's all so cute until the ambulance bill arrives: insurance covered it this time, I want to scream like no one can hear me. You say something loving, my neck stands up higher than any dope, the last of the fools, growing all the time, wrecked on nerve pills, the wasted hours seem so important. I never hesitated to throw myself over the first story balcony.
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Born of a Little Lie
Dreamers, we never learn, the sunlight pours into the blackout curtains, there's a whole world outside of me, outside these four walls. Too late for opuses & dandelion wishes, what I'd settle for is you in a sundress. Little white daisies line the window pane. Killer silence on the phone like a window into pain. The dark decks below my feet stink of shit & too many circles. You run back into the grocery store for miso & forgiveness from someone. You were just a laugh, just a cry, just a spaceship, something I couldn't quite place my finger on. I place my face against the glassdoor. Make cute little phrases out of my breath. The best it could do. I make the sign of sex & laugh as I walk out the door.
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Dawn
And everytime I let you in, I couldn't see what you really meant. A small jacket, that quiet smile, the simplest of gestures saying I am witness of pasts and stars and dreams of the left behind. I was so worried, I was so worried about this tiny thing I call my heart. Worried about my words. Worried about my pants. One can't see through the worry. What a fool who doesn't know he is a fool. The mankind experiment demonstrated through masculinity. A collective sigh through the room. Cat scratches across my hand and I can't say I care too much. N64 graphics and the most beautiful mushroom matcha latte I ever had. When blind is blind, you can't really trust your hands, they feel what they want to feel. I've done perfect, I've done magnificent, I've done myself in. Stay forever on this nightmare sustenance, when will the suspension end or become a newfound flag. I have worked out nothing new in my head except for the place I want to be. Real friendship means telling truths. Real friendship means showing up even when it's black smoke and tears. I've been afraid of fucking up my whole life. As a result, I've been fucking up this whole life time. Grab a glass, fill it up, water only, I'm sober now. It'll be okay when the sun rises again.
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Crucifix
The more I learn, the less I know about how the world turns into dust from gold, and vice-versa. To be closer to the only thing that holds the valence is valued in absentia, in retrograde. Winter snuggles & the warm blanket shines bright when there is only this weary mind to contemplate this holy dark mess it has made. Driven numb by the thousand cuts, the deepest one still lingers hard to see apart from me. At once I knew that I knew nothing. There's just these hands and these words and these poor eyes what sights they have seen. You are in marigolds, you hover about the glade, little tip toes through the garden tulips. Corresponds to Calvary. To act insane is only sane. Across the creek of my childhood, there's magnolia leaves crunching & my father smiling as he sips his Diet Coke, smelling of two cycle and sweat and Sunday. I reach to touch him but a pane of glass blocks my grip. I am pounding against the barrier again, begging to be let in. The apostrophe's a missing link to holding on to what may be gone. Late on the lake, the highway man steals the boat. Takes me out to drown but the moon is high & loud & brings the sign of healing, of seeing, of truth. Pick up the plank, carry water.
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End of Fugue
If you can't wait until the morning, I'll be there with breakfast and burned toast. Corded electromagnets with grooved ends wrap around the baluster trimmed with holly and green plastic. How many times did we forget to remember to grieve our lost kids, ourselves. No need to say it out loud. The iron view says that it's already over. A radio for a racket, squealing into the night. My pray game looks like the Lakers as of late. Somewhere between the old and new, a figment of my imagination. A figure you make into my mind. The rivulets spanning every space and time swing into the present. I'm the kind of cracker who begs for your feet just to wash them. Lord forgive them they know exactly what they do. Run away trains and music videos from the 90s. I remember the last sweet thing I said to myself in my sleep: it's okay boy now you can wake up. The nightmare is over, the night has passed, here is the light, here is the stove by which you must warm your hands.
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Ring Tone
Still alive from you and you. From forests to the sun, god knows we're a little lost. Big ground to break untidy it seems even though the reward lays thick like a carpet, under fog, layered in time and pain. Who knows who you'll be? You. The everlasting symbol of hope, renewed faith, ON GOD, they say in the churches. Whether lilacs last bloomed or the butcher sharpens his knives for yours most truly divine appetite. Whetted. Little white lies are what I told myself about me. Someone told me once "there's no one to be, there's nothing to do". Much ado about nothing, no thing but being. Call me when you can, if you can. I'll pick up the phone.
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Front Street Spread
Circumstances and death collapsing. Eager beaver seems on deer sunglasses. Headlights flash & circles stashing colored memory as if a disaster. You held your hand out like a friend and I forgot what this looked like. Latchkey kids & the trouble never catches up to the real threat inside me. How many words, how many likenesses, sweet oblivion of the altruistic wizard. He's got on his disguise; a wig with his name on it. Your eyes trace the outline, sighing. Smells like the person he wants every one to believe exists. You can't seem to shut it down. Brown floods every weekend. And it's always weekend. Take awhile to settle this pain: conquering reason with all the sides of consideration. Temptation is wanting to make everything all right. Nothing is alright. Everything's fine. Go to sleep now child, the fire is set already. The wind will blow and set all things right.
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All The Light That Cannot Be Named
A paw print near your neck. I can imagine how it feels to touch your skin with my lips. I once dreamed of what I got. I once let go of what I dreamed. If dental floss were rope, could I pull you from the bathroom into my arms at last? Not because I am impatient but simply I just can't wait until I see you smile again. With or without me, the tide rolls on. There is a bad moon on the rise. The song says so. I am daft and truly a wanna-be punk. Rebellious for the sight of your small demeanor, tender, incredible, powerful, bright. I am like the moon begging for your shine. Once every few weeks would be enough for me.
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A Hex on Words
The treasure I never kept. Ok, yes, let's be together as long as it is healthy for us. But if you are my home, where do I go when the winds blow an icy sheet across my back? I will never know the depth of your painlovebeauty quintessence of torn apart words. If I am waving in the breeze, you are my trunk that holds me to shore. I dream of having the right words to say, of knowing what you're thinking, of holding you like I did the first time we said the four letter word. Every voice that sings. I would envelope. In time this sting will become a gash. The passing of time makes all things more sincere. Well, what about breakfast at Sisyphus's? The dear Ophelia, tossed in the river by her own truth. And Hamlet, boy dumb boy, too eager, too uprooted. When the leaves stop falling, may there be peace on the river of your life. If there is a place for me, I will wait for you to speak my name.
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Will You?
Said you're gonna be my broken dream. I'll look after you if you'll look after me. I've been the careless one. If you'd only open your door just this one last time. I would never forget how much I've fallen down. I know you can hear me through your hurting heart. I can see you with flowers in your hair. The brown looks like mahogany, a magnolia, between the leaves. I've left behind a million lives. I can't seem to win for having lost. There's not much I have offer except this small marble in my chest. Can you read my mind? Can you read my heart? He said, baby, I don't have a lot but you can have my soul. That's about all I have left to give. You might as well say you do already do. Already born again from a death enormous and chugging, will I ever learn to swim? If I can hold your hand, I will. Standing on the edge of goodbye, I can't fathom your pain. What I've done, what patience I have tried. Photos of you circle my mind. A crown of thorns all throughout my body. My cup runs over with memory and an endless love. I won't let go.
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Sunset / Midnight
When pleasure has lost its purpose, the doomscrolling has found all solution, my little red cardinal still sits on a branch. Weathered, broken but still in tact. My little sparrow far away from reach, the news from the truth is that I ever loved you even if it escaped a drift. Until the worst is over. I am handcuffed to the alabaster chair, shiny and bright. How much money can buy the right to speak alive? More like fancy tricks from the liars mouth that says I must fall down eventually. Gap jacket looks like a punk silhouette skeleton that perils the thought. Of wishing you were with somebody that you're already not. A little lost but found. A little ghost from the deep underground. When roots grow up from the depths, I'll hold my head up high that I did not die. Love looks like letting go when your arms have been covered in scars and time. They say, never, they say, goodbye, they say, hello to forever I am home.
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