Apologies for my apologies

  • Control

    Measure out the isolation
    Filter out the concentration
    Organize the injuries and wishes into sizes
    Into shapes and into values, into costs and compromises
    If the blocks are all adjusted adequately, it’s a cube where all the colors are aligned, and people say that makes it whole

    Factor in the complication
    Mute the pain of computation
    Allocate a meaning to the days evaporated
    All the ones I can’t recall and all the ones I fabricated
    If they’re all assigned a number I can weigh them on a scale and if it balances correctly then it means I have a soul

    Calculate the admiration
    Quantify the destination
    Designate a number to the point I started dying
    Started saying that I’m living, or pretending that I’m trying
    If the points become a line and I can say that it’s increasing then it means that I’m succeeding – that’s apparently the goal

    Qualify the adoration
    Simulate the conversation
    Figure out the purpose of a word before it’s spoken
    And determine how to fix what I can break before it’s broken
    If I manage to assemble all the words and all the bleeding into something that can satisfy the value that you’re needing, I can finally be the version of a me that has a meaning – I just need to put forever into color-coded boxes till I have the things I need under control

  • Do

    With words of meaning all reduced to naught
    And half the words that came before, it seems we both forgot
    So all that can remain are where the pins
    Pressed into the flesh, so we remember how to bleed but never quite where all the agony begins

    I look upon this old and weary loom
    Where words I used to weave but now it’s just an empty room
    That harbors only memories obscured
    By the tearful toil and the effort to retain whatever worth can be reclaimed or else endured

    Sometimes I think the sun and moon collide
    I swear there’s still an echo left of what was not denied
    But so has every phantom ever been
    Passing as a dream before the epilogue erupts and takes the breath from all the words we’ll say again

    So quietly I let the echoes fade
    Becoming like the promises so many lies have made
    And what there is to say, I’ve not a clue
    I brush away the webs that held eternity anew and then accept that in the end there’s really only so much magic I can do

  • Please

    Please don’t let me wander where the roads that I avoided ever sprawl
    Where, behind the thickets, lie the secrets that I keep
    And only words remain as any proof that I can weep
    Where just so many patterns rest in humble disarray
    But these are mine, it’s what I have, and I would love to lose them all

    Kindly, would you keep me from the chasms where the chaos seems to bay
    There, where all the corridors are barely more than crypts
    And half the words I say are torn from other people’s scripts
    Where thoughts of consolation are like patterns in the dust
    As if reminders, little notes, so many things I meant to say

    Tell me that you’ll usher me away from the remains of fleeting trust
    Far from all the stages where I never give a name
    And people, dearly close, and ever far, they look the same
    Where all the rooms – identical – yet different by degrees
    Are all I have, and as for reasons, they can never be discussed

    Truly, let me travel to a place that’s far away from my unease
    Where, behind the fences and the walls, and barricades
    And elegies of sorrow singing tragic serenades
    Are maybe some reminders of a summer left in fall
    I hope that I can find them, even one, or just a quarter
    Maybe just a tiny fragment of a pattern at the border
    Where you told me, “You should leave,” before you looked away and said, “forever, please…”