Quiet Insanity

Carelessly discarded memories

wind down hallways

creep behind creaking doors

seep surreptitiously under crack

over disembodied dusted frame

escape rug left to withered worry

flicker light to shimmer

in darkness

a light in the dark.

taunt tear to tear from windows nailed shut

cast image, mad shadows on walls

from a multitude of fires unattended

I’m lost to incoherency and try

footsteps evade ever corner

hands scrape on walls littered in oil stains

left behind

stumble up stairs

fall over mangled menagerie hand built and wanting for life

wanting to survive

oh my quiet insanity

will you not be kept so?

 

 

 

 

 

Invisible

(written 3 years ago – rediscovered today)

Here it goes again
voice lingering out of reach
echoing on an undefined horizon
beyond sun and moon
captured by stars yet flickering

… must be invisible

words shatter on the floor
broken glass unheard
hand brushes through shadow
smoke filtering between lips

I know must be invisible

So I lift my pen
write your name in the stars
tether the wind to call where you are
gather tears to make it rain
build castles out of leaves in a storm

I hope I am not invisible
but I think I must be
invisible

Because I want to write
but tears fall where
ink should
and no one can read tears
invisible ink
invisible me

I really must be invisible

Pieces for sale

Pieces on the floor
memories I tried
to throw
out

:breathing:

some of them are glued
some of them are tapped
suffering on the table of my life
too precious to get rid of
too broken
to
love

here I sit
in this chair
staring
night comes and dawn surfaces
night comes again and still
I am here
unable to move

unable to move

Oh God
Pieces of me lay on the floor
and I’m not sure what to do anymore
pieces of me

pieces

of

me

I want to post a sign
come,
for free
take these little
pieces
mismatched and un-
wanted pieces
away
from me
put them on a shelf
love them
like some one else
give them a home
make them yours
I will gladly give in
I will gladly throw in
one more

pieces of me
pieces of me
my god
lying on the floor
on the floor

 

Clouds and puzzle pieces

Clouds float where I long to be

where angels tread and secrets breathe

Sky painted blue, not for me, maybe you

and if I could just grow wings

I would sail above the froth an’ fro of

all these crazy pieces

– red shards of hope

feathered tethered and bare

like little glass pieces

not finding their way home

and no where

to go.

 

Misgivings and regrets 

Textured light colors the room darkly

Unsettled dust lingers over fine hopes; dancing unrepentantly

Door, locked and forgotten, fears the ax left in hands unforgiving

And I graciously accept the mantle of candle waxed crowns by names long forgotten; misgivings and regrets

All so the mouse can claim the lion and the bat the role of the cat

So this is life…

{written to this song: http://youtu.be/qedWRMoTvMs}

The space says to share my story, but what story is there to share. I have begun to see the truth of things. Magic and wonder exist for the young. Delight and passion for the youthful heart. The very old have suffered through. The wealthy purchase joy. And we, middle bound and gagged, suffer the realization there is little to hope for. No magic. No delight. Only one breath after another in an endless pursuit to maintain that breath. 

So what of my story? It is like every other sad affair gone unwritten. A candle tossed. A fragrance forgotten. I was born. I have lived. And one day, I will die. 

And this is life. 

Stories end…

silence
gives short comfort
strain of note and drum
in familiar tunes
casts shadow over distant joy
memory embracing unknowns
now mysteries never to be discovered.
its cover worn
its pages browned
last word unwritten
and pen empty
live? love? flee? found?
the ‘morrow I’ll never know.
and I feel the fool to mourn
the story’s end
but mourn I do nonetheless.

… with intent.

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