from a porch, for tomorrow

our converse conversations, starting within the end, didn’t end abruptly

words eased to a lull, i tightened my high tops and shot back across town where i knew the shaggy headed kids smoked cigarettes and threw pickles against coffee shop windows cheering cured cucumbers to the ash filled table below

sixteen and without fucks

i was always the nice guy

“more like a friend”

nine-passenger wagon rides to skank filled concert halls, white-reggae dancing

eye-lined boys, boundaries moved

lake-side-plume-filled-sweatshirt walks tasting dollar-fifty lip gloss, inhaling a “twenties” worth of virginities perspiration on the nape of her insecure neck

i was young once

engrossed in moments, enmeshed in the now, talking to you

going no where

inverse discussions

without end

from a chair, collective comfort

pillows were heaped high to appease the whim of royalty

everyone where’s purple these days

it’s pink we contest

civil unrest, bludgeoned life vest

thrown long after the ship sank

harpoon shot practice

intentions

never defined

intuition refined, forgetting what they tell us

we drown

why should we trust the man with rolls lopping over his water-worn belt holding up a swimsuit, in name only, because he went wading in shorts, unprepared, to blame the cinematic version of being lonely and scared

after realizing

he couldn’t save himself

who am i to judge?

i wore tri-colored trunks to bed last night, my head, worn and wretched, dug firmly into balled up blankets as i pretended sleep came easy

“keep your rectangular fluff stacked to the ceiling.” i whisper into cotton creases, hoping you’ll hear “observe your status, as bulged and bleeding eyes greet another day, after another night of keeping watch, waiting for shadows to materialize and actualize what you thought was buried in billion dollar bribes. you lost. fuck off.”

i drift away

you, press “0”

asking “will you bring more?”

in the end

when they come

you’ll have to answer the door

alone

from a couch, checking boxes

move, with rhythm and purpose

beat back the desire, stand still

decide

you mustn’t shuffle your feet to seek the thrill, balancing and bouncing off bodies barricading an escape from uncontrollable congregated climax

heightened state

reached

coming and going, we’re all inclined

stay until the end

lights

bass

face

tights

fluorescent

whipping-wish motions, never knowing who you may please

i’m tired, though

nighttime routine, following

voice in daylight, independent

laughable, commendable

not sustainable

clashing ego, super ego, you, alone

tell me

one side, voice

concern

whether to bail, suicide doors, on spontaneity’s sunday ride, pissing off everyone around us, agitated at the prospects that saturday, as it was, may never be, again

that’s why we came

when we could

from a porch, waiting for the sway

sideways force, movements continue forward

swaying in ecstasy’s lane wondering if i should pull over

backwards isn’t an option

waiting for you to catch up, would tempt my patience

regardless

we never surrendered to that scheme, moving to the known, our game was to dethrone what couldn’t be predicted

animal instinct

impulse

pushing the physical, unable to tackle the emotional…state of deciding if we were doing the right thing

it was the breeze

disturbing my trajectory

i gave in

while you led the way

from a porch, dragon designs

when i’m alone

optical nerve transmissions draw fire-breathing dragon designs in dim-lit skies during spaced-out imaginary line tracing moments when looking around makes me nervous

acknowledging points

unseen by busy minds

awareness

when we choose to go blind

to control-crafted scenes, dismantling the fiends-for-truth imagery

remembering that fantastical creatures do exist

if i let them

dragons of peace

wrestling away manic moments

dragons of laughter

teasing human-assembled components

dragons of forgotten stories

burning images, recalling connections

dragons of passion

witnessing resurrection

a collection

of misfit truth warriors clad in scales, balancing the weight of midnight tales, leaving us breathless and passing through daytime constraints to find salvation

i blink

it’s over

clouds carried hope away

from bed, how many years?

how many years

has somebody said

for how many years

has somebody said “we contemplate light patterns that appear when purple hues fade, to find the divine”

limitations

languid language lying on a limp notebook page

lined

defining the path our words will take

make

a

break

denying similarities, destroys the chain

we ruminate on archetypes

natural phenomena

phe-

no-

men-

a

gods arise

disciplines develop

for the sane

those on-the-in

rehash

they contemplate rain, lost connections, and self-loathing shadow nights

how many years?

has somebody said

for how many years

has somebody said

love me

from a porch, five high

propped my foot up against a brick building

red and brown

sensing attention to my casual nature i stood on all twos

unnatural

pissed off i couldn’t figure out where to put my hands

your eyes

now tumble with me pacing

god damnit

going back

to solo-kick resting

is a direct confrontation to your condescension

maybe it was envy

that i took a moment

relax

they really don’t care

from a porch, stung by a wasp

wasps nests cling

to broken clay pottery

moved about the yard

after sun descending lethargy takes hold

we’ll deal with it tomorrow

or the day after

as long as we don’t get stung

hand-waving-yelp-scurried walks inevitable, by those still innocent enough to find fear in insignificant insects

‘they’ll leave you alone, if you leave them alone’

we say

wishing this were true about those few who cling together in hive mind habitats

displays of broken integrity, power

run away, yelp, wave our hands chaotically, or hide inside

we can’t escape

ideas shape shift, walk through walls, cascade down halls

and find you

they live long after the sting

cold packs won’t reduce your pain

swelling, a reminder

not to listen

to adages meant for truth

from a porch, grim interactions

we need to talk

i’ll lift back the curtain

lower my face

walk out, listen

you will too

commands set the tone

heightened emotions cloned

and we can’t extend this phone line made with tape and twine far enough from begging ears to pretend we’re alone, with monster fears

under-explained

while over-zealous tears beg for forgiveness

never attained

comments continue the misinterpretation of dreams we share for a future aware that this window blank stare won’t find a way to care

as we listen to the off-beat blare of distant heartbeats

i watch you

assumption-breathes find and fog glass

we are separate

it’s used as backdrop to write ‘die’

as you walk by and i’ve never even asked you your name

assumptions

that’s you

a whole bucket full of my assumptions

you’re neither rubber nor glue you haven’t a clue that i drew your shoe, red, white, and blue, knowing your name wasn’t Boo, and i couldn’t Radley an understanding of what you’ve been through, but this two-dimensional false-attempt makes me feel better

kill the birds

i don’t jump when your name is called

i told you we need to talk

behind the walls

so you couldn’t hear

and i could say ‘i tried’

from a porch, confused confessions

confiding in the sinner, who’s crimes you don’t know, leaves you achingly vulnerable, bowing to deceit

from here on out, repayment is on repeat

circles without exits

direction arrows change, so must you

can you remember where you parked existences purpose?

next to death?

easier living?

decisions decided, without you

doors swing open, you’re suppose to pass through

don’t you wonder what’s behind closing passageways, after you leave

do you question why?

we know what, where is defined, who can be seen – how do you let it happen?

is it too far away?

the brilliance of righteousness

walking back brings certain death

but, what is living like?

what wakes you up?

other than an alarm they set

we’ve written about footprints

who’s coming

who went

who didn’t show up

who had an excuse not to walk

days end

imprint after imprint

creates no print

importance destroyed, order ignored

individuals who shoulder the weight of preserving an ability to wander in circles is lost, without concern

when they’re gone

so are we

the holders

of reasons

to keep moving forward

confide in the sinner, go ahead

this is the watershed

a moment we can’t lose