This time
you can ask.
This time
you can say
Hello there.
How are you?
I’m doing good,
also.
There’s a missing link
between
the good and great.
Come to my side.
Slightly dire, I’m sure.
Tilt back, swallow it all.
Flicker the light switch
on and off.
This must be
the living description
of the detachment you’ve become used to
breathing.
And I only wish it stopped.
Or hadn’t started.
I only wish it was cut in half.
Or hadn’t started.
Nine years later.
An empty nation to return to.
Propaganda Christmas
holds hopes of the future.
Digital camouflage
only fools the fearful.
They’ve no concept of
time or reality.
God, this can’t be.
This is what He wanted?
Their prayers for peace
conflict the start of conflict.
Wouldn’t He want your child safe?
Teach your son to hold his tongue
on the playground,
but fire your gun on the war ground.
Wandering nights
and walls for balance beams.
Spinning tops
and flash light dreams.
Wasted moves for improvidence.
The impasse awaits.
A questioned materiality
is often forgiven by falling leaves.
Reds and yellows.
Orange and green
Grass blanketed by the
prettiest month you ever did see.
Vows of desires
hindered by a self-indulgent
exploit. All that you ever wanted.
Undeveloped days spent under the sheets.
Turtle’s pace while I plummet.
On to the bed I land
into slumber.
Good night.
For I am not who
I will be when I awake.
And you’ll still be the magazine
with one page.
Your substance is questionable.
Your reasoning is flawed.
I only get to feel good
to make you feel better.
But no longer shall I wait,
as this pause that I take
will linger,
so carry on.
Small words.
Strange window.
Lovely laughs.
Headlights.
Smile, it’s pretty today.
Hello,
goodnight.
Twirling fingers.
Pretty eyes.
Promising.
Devour.
Rushed.
Unrealized.
Suitcases unpacked.
Danger.
Lustrous.
Need time.
Strength
in an unusual form.
Against rushed certainty.
But thoughts follow
the film score playlist.
Don’t beg for more.
Not now. Not ready.
Just wondrous.
An elevator of sorts
lifts and drops the spirits
on a soggy day.
The up and down motion
repeated throughout the
minutes is tiring.
But I can almost see
the lights ahead, colorful
and streaming from trees.
And an escape back into wonderland
is reachable.
But an unpacked journey is seemingly dangerous.
The rain falling calmly on the leaves
resembles a nighttime drive with you.
Like the peace that surrounds our words,
loud laughs. Not a worry.
A couch conversation
in a crowded room.
A few more laughs
and I can only hear you.
Call it a protection of a possible disaster.
Yeah, that’s what we’ll call it.
Averting some bad future, bad history,
all at once.
Because I need the smoke to fill the room,
before I can realize where I am,
and maybe where I should be.
It only looks like home.
It’s hard to recall what the words meant
or describe the picture again.
I’ll never let what’s right for me
walk through that door.
Call it a flaw of the grain
found on silver screens;
false beliefs of the world
painted behind sunglasses.
It’s important to find the beauty
hidden in the ugliest times.
To find the lake hiding behind the castle
is a good place to begin.
Snow-capped hills fill the void
between the towers and the sky.
And fog wraps the fortress walls
inviting only the curious.
The shadows from the spires
paint the lake in blue and gray.
A motion reminder of the luck
we have surrounded ourselves with.
What I would give to wake up here,
walk into town, breathe Christmas air.
But the lights don’t match up right now,
and one day the snow will fall.