Tag Archives: blues

Okinawa (Taking The Long Way Home)

Hopeless; soft sigh of my shamelessness

Almost anechoic now, rather hurting your

Perfect prelude as you cross nocturnes into

Plaques of deception, I crave the vicious way

You crept under my closed eyelids and let my

.

Bloodstream clog up with letters of your name

Infected and depleted, frantic and lovesick like

Redbones and restless sentiments as I befall back

To the insomniac midnight runs that broke in my

Head like it was just another swollen, gaping scab

Daring me to pick at it, to pick it up, to pick you out

And spill my thoughts all over the ceiling’s leaky holes

Yes, you are and will be the only one, begotten wonderer

.

Arrogances forsaken—! I vehemently collide directly into

Never, never again, never yours, never there, never more

Distal anoxia, stiffly reaching out, these hands—fractured

Your staccato rings out to alarm the wolves, for I am to your

.

Carrion as you are to my crudely-preserved trophy head displayed

Iridescent phantom may you be yet afterlife barely transpired, just a

Zeitgeist fleeing the tides under the midst of November’s temper bloom

Enamoured harshly to your facsimiles and facades and fastidious blues

Keeping worn-down stars in my pocket for another year lost again to you.

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locked-out blues

I was doing fine meeting
My words according to time
But the poetry written to save me
You wanted all of that and more
Keep me, collect me
Like the rare records on your shelf…

~*~

it’s careless,

the way i think.

your broken wings

don’t carry me far

but you’re a bad habit

and i’m an addict

with a song on my lips

and a smile on my lucky pen

and i could barely hold

a thought in my head

without shivering

at what it might do to me.

hold it apart and catch

the raindrops falling

on my open window,

writing poetry all

over the shadows of oak

bookcases, as i sit in

my empty bedroom

and conjure up a fiction.

there’s a blush

in my alabaster bones

unlike the ones in

my cheeks, trapped

in the midst of

a tedious ballet and

the infinite breaks of my

scratched vinyl records,

and i’ll cascade away again;

and i’m misty-eyed.

your arctic gaze is gentle and

obscured by plumes of

smoky cinnamon

take another quiet sip

of the words painted over

in an artist’s epoch,

and let me in…

let me in.

~*~

What are you fighting for? (I was doing fine)
Too sad I’m same as yours? (And the days
I would catch myself from falling)
What are you fallin’ for? (Keep me, collect me
Like the stones you would find on the beach)
Too sad I’m same as yours? Tumble me smooth
You know it’s some of that I need…

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