from my porch, what do you want?

if you like this, can you tell me why? for those who enjoy my words, i see you. i give you voices and personalities from a single round picture – letting me know you’re there. our experience are different – our emotions the same. we share a common bond on this undulating plane; in our world created in this outer-space place, zeroes and ones translating a blank face, a virtual place, where we talk to ourselves. not a single voice, no, not alone, a series of our own beings spliced into other beating pieces to this glued and framed puzzle. are we that confined? blinded by the design our future holds?

yah, so i want to know why you choose to read my thoughts. i used to not say i care, in fact, i deceived us that i didn’t.

i do.

from my porch, family stood above all

toxic conversations swing wildly around in ill tempered rooms where insecurity wanders wildly diverting our emotions to a response jerked to high knee kick ears closed eyes wide and nothing building in a surprise of where we can’t fathom the possibility that we aren’t able to connect the dots of rhythm leaving your pounding heart realization points filtering away the trust of balcony peering

can i trust you?

you’d have to open wide while i gash flesh and rip intestines from surprised organs hand over hand falling to the floor and you laugh, or cry, at least understand it’s a momentary glimpse into something other than them

the others

i see, sniff, and bite at disingenuously dangled desires designed to deteriorate

everything around them so their tethered tightened whitened and worn out soul can stand above the bloody mess declaring supremacy

i can stop smiling

guilt

from bed, i’ll be your waiting room

grab ahold of something more secure than me

lift yourself up and push beyond this pale blond destroyer dream

some things you can’t fix

as the clock ticks

and you can’t afford to waste any more reasons, or time

i’ll be fine, knowing who i am

you’re not the first

i’m a waiting room

uncomfortable and not maintained

inconsolable, temporary, fake fixtures and emotions feigned

a conduit

getting people from there to here and here to there, a rebound echo pulsating through muddy water thoughts in a washed out consciousness

that’s where i’m caught

i chose this

you

it’s an excuse

a position where i’m in control

get out? ha, then i’d have to think, deliver, expose, and shiver in sudden loses of uncontrollable impulses with lovers leaving for what would be another me if i were not he

it’s the easy way out

serving a single purpose

on second thought, come stay awhile

someday you’ll surface

and forget we ever met

from a chair, inhaling the last of your stare

drenched in her tears i stepped into the hallway shared by all the other fourth floor door dwellers stinking of fried chicken, body fetor, and incense

none of which were winning the odor war, an amalgamation of whiffs running wildly through our rooms

all but tuna

tuna sat in the corner waiting for the stench to reach its threshold

then, without hesitation, he’d zoom center stage through draft ways and air vents

nobody welcomed him

he wafted alone through bed sheets and hanging drapes, living in garbage bin tossed tin can creases

festering in mouth corners

absorbed in crumbly crusts left on plates for tomorrow’s cleaning

blasting our senses, giving way to other impressions

biding time

for the next unleashing

resting on your breathe

before the door shut, i turned around and took my final look

sorry for the last time

if i could click my heels i’d be back with her

the her before her, that’s right before you

for years i penetrated the aura swirling around

thinking i could make a new sound pound from the ground you stood on and around

i’ve learned

nothing’s wasted

if we walk away with something

it’s my turn

i’ll dry my shoulders

lift off your weight

make my way down the hall

it’s never too late

to inhale the sweet smell of something new

from a couch, home needs no explanation – the rest does

they ruined the peace sign

fingers used to pulsate potential when topsy-turvy times were captured by flash bulbs and plastered on newspapers and life magazine

it died with ‘deuces’

two fingers and a pouty face

signaling their leaving

they already left

or, we didn’t ask them to stay

never explained our common language, shared the significance of our actions

left alone

to figure it out

they’re their own journalists chronically what happens when norms and celebrations, culture and deliberation, past-times and bed-side manners are disregarded

the them are us

previously placed weight on symbols, cultural mores, and rites was bid a goodnight when without wings and mating flight we fight with duck faces

saying good luck as we ‘peace out’

peace is within

without, we are locked screens

no memory of four digit codes and your face won’t be recognized by the past and i can only hope the future doesn’t look like you, like this

it does, it’s now

i’m getting old

reflective

one thing i do know, i don’t want the past

romance is lost

it starts with a conversation

photos held

relevance, reverence and importance placed on people and places who genuinely display who we are

what are we?

stuck

where two fingers hold the key

we can use it together

let me tell you how

from a hotel bed, the privilege to consider prestige

leave

thoughts take up daylight clouding my vision and fading the only thing i have to hold onto

but she is lying

i know that

perfectly packaged material arrives everyday strategically shared to paint a picture.

i’m the emotional artist

get out of my studio and save the sales pitch for the finger fuck suit down the hall who sips steady shots of alcohol (he knows them all) and i can’t twist anymore with these images of time left open and the draft that came through only kept me in the know of what travesties you were trying to take back from the waking world reality we all live in

those were my words

the ones you carefully jotted in a notebook for everyone to see

those were my words

the ones i flung out before considering drenched in a tear filled raw exchange of exactly how i was feeling

i feel

you think

throw the fucking last years in with the kitchen sink

here it all comes

how do i get your attention to see the world isn’t planned and pleated, written and deleted

before presentation

my walk is my pitch

i will never switch to save my own face

i could care less what i look like

honesty is ugly

the roots dig deeper and i become immovable

there’s a breeze

i sway

you break

good bye

a porch, horrible music surrounds me

i hate the night

you all change

i get tired

eyes blur, words slur, everything is totally fucking ‘like for sure’

i don’t want to listen to your drivel

wasted words

pushing everything backwards

i used to be that way

wrapped in insecurity’s goggle lenses

now i’m fucking bitter

especially because she wants me to be you

for a time

what does that say?

this stupid rhyme

meters forced

it’s all i have

the option is there

despair

my weakness would give you a partner

i have to dance alone

they think it’s negativity

angsty creativity

the flow of emotions

pouring from untapped sources

i can’t apologize

for your lack of understanding

i’ll sit alone and wrestle the tone

wishing i could destroy the drone

of my thoughts

i can’t win