that moment was mine
you guided guilt to the sweet spot of time by myself, i rarely seek
it slipped out
comments spinning spells i cast when tragedy was traded for your personal gain
not sure what you got
i caught a train with a ticket i bought years ago
they honored my intentions
even though paper had expired
i hopped off at the first stop and crossed tracks still humming
the tune straddled my synapses
i sat under the turkey claw shade of a cherry tree in fall
alone
lollipop licking
contemplating your last statement while gazing out over breeze-blown tall grass, tempting the less cynical side of my spirit while sugary spit clumped in my throat, swallowing the artificial sweet side of life proved difficult
i kept sucking
i held back a cough, sure to be misinterpreted if it penetrated the atmosphere and confused the steady stream air
you don’t remember what you said?
the whisper that stripped me of everything i dreamt we had, only days earlier when i swayed in a string tied hammock we bought on vacation
you thought i was sleeping
your whispers found a way through the breeze
sentiments of regret were swept into my ears
i waited
for you to say more
instead
your hushed sigh echoed through my resting mind, changing letters in sequence and design to form your final
goodbye
so long
i opened my eyes to the sound of music song echoing playfully in my mind, easing the reality of moving on
under my cap brim shading the sun
a smile danced through my eyes
and quickly curled my lips, finally releasing
i can breathe again
shelter our young ones from the onslaught of instincts gone awry
hide them under covers, let them clutch fabric with tight paw grip, peaking out, waiting for us to leave, staying still when we, invariably, come back in
they wait
for us to forget
we’re the ones who tucked them in
when will they know the coast is clear
that presents are under the tree
and it’s safe to come out
feigned surprise guilt faces as they tumble down the staircase that erases the fears we fostered to maintain control
unwrapping hopes
they resort to tropes
left behind
codes to define
generation connections
crossing the line
we left no pictures
traces of our devastation
it lives behind their eyes
never mixing in their words
as they rewrite a past
better forgotten
even your forgotten emotions let out a sigh when i walked out of the door
i was thirty-seven, you had suffered an immeasurable reflection for too long
i had her gestures, a face that resembled yours, it was something you couldn’t get over, accidents not averted, following time, we couldn’t pay attention to the mime
hidden hands waving away destiny
what was left?
i played no part
in the memories that made you weep, a seventy year old child, a father unfolding fears and unfound fates unwound and delivered to his six year old babies face
suffering lines trying to hide tears, careening cracks the years spent forcing onto my mask
you left me retracing every morning i asked permission, accept me
your demons given to me
progenies job to slaughter a history, that i never helped design
doubts i didn’t define
those are yours
i’m not there
you chased me out years ago
sentiments were left blowing through the streets, strung along by a tongue tied wind, encouraged by the black-out rage of those never looking within, or back, always forward, dead-aim attack
impermanence
words never meant to linger in nibbled on lovers ears or bask in the glow of a child’s terse tears, said and sung away softly, drifting down pallid people paths where sullen dreams dry up, fall off, and catch the swirling cycle of platitudes puked into the air, so we can say we did something
they caught fire, in grey matter caverns
destroying rehearsed dance step memories
forcing us
to say something new
elephant ears rested on trampled ground
the final sound was francis claiming he had won
dust swirl storms gathered around his boots shuffling hesitantly to meet the dead he never knew in life acting as if he understood the majestic mark indelibly placed on beating hearts whose size and race never mattered, until we ran out of sport, got sick of feeding one another to the lions, bloated, we’ve killed enough of our own
everything hunted just wants to be left alone, the piled up platitudes explaining away ignorant displays of powder packed pipes rattling off rounds into spun out desert dwellers just hoping for something sweet before they die, it’s coming to an end
oh, that’s dessert
you’ll get your ‘just’ ones
maybe two
if the feeling of every fucking insufficient bounced-check intelligence fund deficit of a human forgets to breath today
we would only be so lucky
could we
melt down their trust funds and figure a way to feed the few left over after the blue sky blew the sky to earth confusing people to death
literally
dying due to the inability to understand change
the elephants were playing possum
francis didn’t want him anyway
we all walked away
less confused
murdered by all those who observed
tempted
tell me another story
the one about leaving home
the one about walls you pine for
the one about saturdays spent in doorways deciding to stay or go, spinning in indecision, the sensation of losing control, without a taste, yet, of jaded-aged fright, a dice roll, pulsing with prudence you pounded your heals into rooms ravaged by moving flesh organisms lifted in syncopated sonic flashes wishing there was a way to make it last
tell me
tell me how you wandered out of the door to streets stained with the after glow of moonlight tromps seeking souls left asunder, dancing while asking which way the golden one goes after declaring the detour was a faster route
come again?
i heard you
i just want to hold on
to the tale you chase when there’s nothing left to talk about
start over
were you scared?
did he trick you into believing lamppost guides led the others to death, a fortune tellers dream i trusted
leaving me listening to your stirring stringing together sequence of events capturing the laments and happenstance that left us helpless
i would go
if you’d stop explaining how
i think in lyric
mine and theirs
static rhythms keeping my stare affixed on memories and people i’ll never be
unless the shot gun blast finds a way through me
i left myself open
a crack at least
hoping you’d peer in with pure curious intention and press play
i may not give you what you want
today
stick around, keep listening
grind the stump and sit down
my story reflects people and places left placid in vapid outline traces for me to dissect when lonely echo fears steer my unrhyming sentiments into desperate voices that don’t sound like mine
i borrowed your lines, at times revealing the source
it’s all of ours of course
the main-course chorus, we’re trapped on this course where vibrations were once smooth
battling remorse
i’m hoarse
sounds i listen to alone while standing in line, clear, no buds in my ears, my utterance worsen with every stimulated synapse firing a new tone
leave me
let guilty-confident musings guide my thoughts, and challenge the language of stars to find a way through these bars your judgement raised between my lips
so malleable mind wanderings can become truth
curious notions were satisfied when i stripped myself of your diseased perceptions creating questions asked for during midnight mumblings alone in a room made for two
i’m forced into deadline reconciliations with someone i’d walk over on my way to develop new-vision novelties
splitting open rotted wood emotions with hatchet hands
taking another step
forward
counting the splinters stuck in my socks left soaking after the slush i sloshed through in rock-kicked alleys developed a leftover meal for children clawing their way up
determined to continue counting question marks when presented facts
vomiting distractions on desk tops made for drawing, hoping you’ll stop prattling on with dotted dates and crossed out names
i know what you’re thinking
i didn’t want to be here anyway
try
say something else
we have to
retell the stories, erase the fact that there are facts
only perspectives
unraveled concepts
con-men with biceps
pounding their chests
i hear the echo
trapped in your lungs
shout
scream the song of comfortable doubt
sing, of whys and how’s
not when’s and where’s
let this tune be trumpeted by trusted truth-tellers tempting us to triumphantly overcome this cyclical torture
breaking free
to destroy the enemy
dying free
once again finding we
releasing the me
from this human debris
my morning stream 