read

from a couch, withdrawal

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

door hinges holler

even when you tip-toe to the jamb and ease our portal to sin open, they hear you

you can’t hide

we’re destined to be exposed, their hands clapping, shortly followed by brandished weapons openly exposed on hips made to hold children, or the lingering lust left over from lovers tongues and lips leading you on, every echo of our existence lives in the widest parts of our being

they see us

we’ll move on

to bedrooms with nightstands holding tomorrow’s mask, mutated machine gun eyes ready to fire in moments of surprise sudden shaking of our senses that can’t be stopped with your mental breakdowns pushing everyone away

all we wanted was to take advantage of your dreams

to act out our own demented fantasies where everyone is undressed and daring our pain to crawl out from underneath trauma’s wings

split me open

i’ll lie next to you

bleed into me

penetrate the doorway with raucous energies pounding all senses to alert everyone that we’re home

from a porch, listening to lightening

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

the night nears an end

temporary space where unconscious exploration begins, nothing expires when examined again, picked up dropped in spaces to heighten an understanding of where we got lost on this turnpike filled with stops and starts and turn arounds, spinning underground to make our way through impassable barricades listening to the mist slowly gather to a rain, and feign a smile so you know i heard what you expected as the midnight oil burned

i hope these pages smell of kerosene and fluorescent lights in the modern age

i stayed up

dedicated to rage

change that brings forth a light that’ll guide us when the next space time travel is welcomed to design patterns of thoughts coinciding, colliding, exploding and refining the purpose we seek to push on another day

i thought of you

alone in a bed made for two

tossing and turning with ideas plagued

the belief that there is something more

it’s more of what came before

the aftermath left on a forest floor

walking over crumbled leaves

a change of seasons

i can breathe again

with reason

not to figure out

to resign the words for someone else

walking this path

of rediscovery

from bed, do you know?

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

you couldn’t give me a straight answer

i stuck around chain smoking cigarettes, crushing butts into metal ashtrays marking the movement of time

leaving me with a fitful night sleep and stained fingers

wishing i had found another way to slow your goodbyes to a drawn out stutter that i could complete for you

g.g.goo.goo.g.good.da.da.da…

DAY

your greeting with a grimace-frustrated face had you give up on trying to erase the words i inserted to keep you close

i never wanted to watch you disintegrate into a pool of leftover thoughts

waiting for me to grab a mop and wring out your memory into water muddied by wishful questions

that we’ll never move on from

from a couch, speak to me

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

stand and deliver the sermon you were sent to serenade us with on a mountain built to rise above the pathetic-life platitudes that dribbled from hedge-fund hoes betting for a secure future full of uncertainty to those they pretend to protect

raise your voice over the echoes from the valley below full of window dressed men with barbed wire mouths hoping to take another step towards sisyphus’s demise

i’d find comfort pushing senseless stones endlessly in an effort to drive out those needing the next thing

i found a rhythm with my broom, sweeping streets littered with lost souls seeking sunrise in paper bags and garbled thoughts

who am i to declare anything

the thought alone gives weight to a world crushing Atlas, without a map we lose our way home

where will we go?

your words cease when understanding is drowned in the ocean you slipped into while realizing, no one was listening

from the porch, the stars at night are big and bright

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

put them on display like marie o’day

a traveling freak show of our forever frozen-in-fear children’s bodies captured behind glass

we’ll pay our quarter and gasp

will we find the answer?

as they continue to be riddled by bullets from the sphinx’s arms, can they enter our institutions without having to guess who is on all fours and who walks down hallways holding an end to their innocence, not lost, taken, never to be regained?

one last wrinkle from the protector of Thebes tongue, ‘he slithers on his belly after lunch’

these displays are not an anomaly

nothing to stare at stupefied

they’re genetically modified like the rest of us

a mirror in her casket would prove to be interchangeable

next to the werewolf man, just as believable

our fears

in arranged viewing areas for us to examine

school buildings charging admission for us to safely discover what keeps us up at night when our imaginations are made tangible, agreed upon breeding grounds left to their own devices

desires to smash mores established for greed, desires for their moms to fulfill their needs

and dad’s to stand up, before another one bleeds

and joins the circus

from a chair, distance from disaster

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

you stuck the wooden mallet down my throat and began churning out helpless emotions i stuffed deep years ago to dispel the myth that i am predetermined to your sink-disposal life they threw everything into before you ran away

i’m ok

it made me gag a little

i can taste the past

visions will never last

i bleached my eyeballs

knowing i had to keep moving

my sentences full of your pronouns

i forgot how to say her name

digesting symbols of those who came before the blame

it was them

jesus and the gang

names, like animal emotions

only for us

humans

i gurgled visions of father figure fuck over from a forged outcome past and spat hard on rocks as i kept walking

you’re behind me

motionless

the handle hangs out of your bludgeoned head

eyes resting

red

unfed

dead

from bed, dangling before you

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

knots tie themselves with the rope i swallowed

eating it seemed a better option

a limp lasso left resting in your hands would have given us a chance, we could’ve summons two strangers to swing our string in elliptical patterns while we jump in tandem heart beats

who’ll trip first?

when one goes

so does the other

we’re no different

sell me another story

one without glory

a riveting wrangling of words written to loosen the stitches holding me together

oozing sinewy strands i pick up

three hitches, better than a hangman’s

tether it to something

don’t leave me dangling with this doubt

i love you

from a bed, dried on the vine

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

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

from a couch, detained by doubtful words

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

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

from the porch, after getting out of bed

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

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