philosophy

from a stool, morning is becoming night

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i slumped

when i saw the satisfaction you took in skipping ahead of the sunrise

a surprise

it was ours

the glow

coming up, casting shadows with caution while carefully creating cascading columns, shafts of light to shelter the catatonic owls who squint themselves to sleep

you didn’t want to be there

alone and unaware of the depth my breath would have to travel in an effort to calm my loss

the losing of someone who celebrated our awakening

you see,

i need you

and it’s a lie they feed you that we’re suppose to find this thing by ourselves

that somehow strength is found in stretching our arms and eyes without you to spy so i can surpass the butterflies that crawl and flutter through bellyaching nights to an understanding of this thing

this life

this temptation to answer the question we’re born with

the exercise of pushing limits in search of hoping, accidentally, without hurting

we can find the truth

come back

from bed, clouds are clearing

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

catapult yourself over the wall

now duck down

close your eyes

caution will slip away

look up

the peak is covered in displays of light-hearted remorse drifting by as another scene unfolds

did we forget our lines

i hope so

let’s improvise interactions that have fallen to rehearsed reactions captured by a narrator who taunts us with mundane fractions of our day lost in painfully predictable and particular fashion causing greater factions in the mental boxes we open and close with emotional roles defined by effect and cause poles that leave us both

lonely

gasping for breath

i could do anything

i can

i can stand where i once sat and forget what i once thought while dancing where my feet grew firmly to the floor

we have chances to break free once more through a sliver in the door

a sliver in my pore, stuck painfully deep no tweezers long reach can free me from carrying this piece of trying

we must

breach the gates where chain links now lock us away

push

now, push

push

stop

locks need to be opened not forced to disclose the truth of our course that lives on this side of the wall

open your eyes

we’re there

from the same fold out bed, heading home

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

step inside

where a swirling mass of geniuses once resided

where conversations began and our hearts continued

blink

now we’re trained by whistles in times of dismissal, we forgot to notice the sun was setting hours earlier as buildings got taller and bridges crumbled

there’s no way out

hurried remarks cast aspersions on the page where once consideration had a role to play we belly up and hit send threatened to upend the way we look at another weekend

where’s pollyanna when you need her

my glasses are frosty and fogged if she could take the wheel and begin to peel the reform of repeal replace my meal reseal the deal of this slimy feel to get a meal without the ordeal of carry and conceal

i know what’s in your pocket and i’m never happy to see you

let’s refine this conversation to include condensation that forms in layers above us and brings down life

Bob would ask if you could deny it*

try to untie it

the riddle

i’m waiting for the fiddle while buildings spontaneously combust and ashes fly filling coffins with dust

no one is there to carry them

just piles of us

on top of us

on top of more us

finally getting along in the breeze

*Bob Dylan song “Visions of Johanna” reference

from a fold out bed, loud breathing

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

your lies kept us together

disorganized thoughts ordered into chaos as i wonder, while the answer waits

i’ve basked in synonymous questions for a dense decade decorated in more dancing than dread

but

they keep coming up

the questions

a mark

i emphasize key words hoping to bend your ears into your heart for a reality to create a fresh start

your bafflement and approach are beyond reproach as a new spin catches up to my doubt within this empire of frustration that you love

minute to minute

facts left through the back door, carrying the means in a worn out brief case

i see an end

it’s because of the means and they don’t justify a thing

relationships don’t have a blue finish line ribbon to rip

nothing to cross

just the one over my shoulder

and i don’t believe it’s there

i do know what’s in that box stored deep in the recess of her minds mind minding your business which is carrying suitcases with starched men who drink double scotches and order them like every asshole orders a double scotch

on the rocks

i’m getting lost as you’re forgetting you tossed two mop heads and loyalty to a cost benefit that’s your analysis

did you win?

i can’t say it was anything more than a tie as this goodbye suffers in with a favorite lie

the one we told when i played with the fold of white hand sweat paper

i didn’t need to look

i remembered and rehearsed those words

not needing to bow, it wasn’t a show

maybe i’m tethered to a web of my past masking itself in the way you bask in everyone’s sunlight while guiding relationships by moonlight

maybe it’s your patience that keeps us together

maybe

from bed, she reached for my arm

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

sniffling through thursday i realized i might desecrate the real estate if my markers don’t keep their caps on

i’m impulsive

they’re responsible (the caps)

i kept wondering, who’s afraid of losing everyone if the time is right for me to move on and continue this plastic emotion piling up for future generations left with charlie brown sippy cups and forgotten glass jars that used to hold our consciousness

you said it was a reminder

it was your best gift

that empty jar

you told me to stare at it when you were away

it held us

i can’t remember if i threw it down or accidentally knocked it over it was mid december and the people were practicing how’d they’d greet later sunsets and cancer walking tombs

televangelists came to our door

it’s not jesus they want it’s your little girls mind to refine this garbage pail philosophy that subservience is the key

leather whips hang in the closet waiting to zipper my mouth shut and cross our eyes for something more tame this friday night