Apologies for my apologies
I quietly stood as the wind rattled inAnd I turned very littleFor what was a breeze When the sky hasn’t fallen or yet to beginA decent knowing it’ll Just shift in degreesAnd when standing the way I’ve been standing I can’t say the wind has affected the path With every new whispering, trivial soundWhether given to ebbingOr pointless egressFrom a “what could be finished” for “what could be found”Do I let it be webbingComposed of a guessThat I know would be better, if blemished, but beautifully built as if bartering longing for last And words like forever don’t measure as … Continue reading Math
Long ago, I found a vacant field A home, dilapidated, on the fiction of a crumbling foundationGiving meager thought to if the imagery appealedTo any message I beheld I guess avidity prevailedAnd so I labored all the while just creating for the sake of some creation Sowing seeds of negligent regardAnd patching up the windows with an origami curtain of obsessionWatching as the pillars played politely in the yardI made a frame of brittle boardFor all the days that I ignoredAnd set it up like it’s a card so I could say that I possess my own possession Laboring, I … Continue reading Omissions
I find a fitting melody to rob me of the quietIn the shallowest peripheral of allegories slipping Where the stone is smooth as silk and all the instruments are chipping In the slow pursuit of something half as meaningful as what it cost to buy it But long ago I found, if only doing so in folly,The perimeter of morning where the evening is resentfulAnd the lips that let me rise are, to my eyes, now only lent woolThat remains as dying needles from the pine that’s turning gray beneath the holly And hoping it was mistletoe that hovered there … Continue reading Continue
I twisted my apologiesAnd sacred ideologiesUntil the parts I needed most were trueI filled my heart with fusesJust to decorate the bruisesKnowing not why what I choose isAlways differentNever differentSomewhere in between cerulean and blue Where all of the apologiesWere pages from theologiesThe sun had bleached to bone before they bledWhere letters are as flowersPetals lost beneath the towersHolding vigils for the hoursAlways changingNever changingSomewhere in between the colors rust and red I wove all of the similesUntil their lacking symmetriesWas something I could hold, or else pretendFor just a little whileWouldn’t falter like a smileJust a stranger in the … Continue reading Friend
Receive notification about new posts via email.