Still

Time corrects everything.
 I am again reminded daily of this truth.
I have ingested stereotypes.
Milled through friendships.
Passed judgement and also been unhappily at the receiving end.
All and all it doesn't really matter.
I'm still free.
 I'm still happy.
I'm even more myself than ever.
And besides me he still sits.
Correcting me though time.

The Crossing

Somehow before me I have dug,
tooth and nail in my chest..
I am not the eyes I see,
Mirror side up, staring back at me.
Beginning with the end, and catching up with a drop..
And to my beggars knees, I push.
I am not here, inside this heart.
Emptiness breaks me, and pain seeps into my cracks.
Voice feeling so distant from familiar.
I simplify my words down to a lost thought.
And to quantify my elation, never in right's mind.
Dragged back by poison...
Leashing demons. Harnessing caustic self realization.
I go for the kill, before you're my prey.
And every time, you walk away....
I'd rather be the tracks that lay before me.
Penny patina and granularly red.
High carbon steel higher than me.
Amid foggy night looming moon caress.
Nothing but a headline, hand delivered in morning's press.

Dishes

I can see them, ominous... Staring me down like I'm already guilty. Poorly portrayed as sloppy wet suds, caressing supine porcelain... Dressed distastefully in last nights pasta sauce. Their emptiness, somehow my applaud. Filthy. A sad metaphor for that hollow feeling in my gut. Sizing me up and and trying to nip at my feet. In some way a reminder of overthrown success. Absorbing me like a sponge, lawn side down to scrub away any sense of inadequacy I've lacked. Locking me in, scolding my hands as I work to regain an idea of what normalcy looks like... Soft pale ceramic hues glistening under my faucet's waterfall. As the drying rack begins to fill, and I watch the last of the soapy episode circle the drain. Bubbles holding on to the cross hairs like a sad lover. And in the climax of my self loathing I manage to bare a grin. My lungs feel lighter, my breath deep. The weight of "ME" floating off of my shoulders for fragmented seconds. Calmness irising in on my heart and dancing with it's new beat.

In hindsight, I am buying paper plates.

Nospmoht

Day 305
What an adventure.
State escape, uhaul reverie.
What a past we've created.
Ransom note clippings, funnies and all.
Wake up.
Smiling face.
Kissed cheek.
Giggles.
Thunderous laughter.
Warm embrace.
Amore and lust defines curves with wishful thoughts.
We are madly in love.
My Nannuu.

Tempature Rising

I am null.
Air escaping afflicted lungs.
I small spike on your sonar...
A demo hiding beneath false advertisement.
Lost after 3 large gulps... and down my eager throat..
10% alcohol, expectoration of cherry love, a bitter sweet aftertaste.
All the small fingers of Bisphenol A whisking away stray hairs from my face.
Heavy eyes, slumberous blankets encompass me.
I crawl inside and hide, raindrops hitting my window.
The sky is crying.
I am indisposed.
NyQuil lullabies sing me into R.E.M.

Macrocosm

I am lost tide pool gallows.
Winded conversation and abacinated by my smile.
Sweet surrender, bitter to the taste but soft to the touch.
I am singing noteless songs, bombylious above rough waters.
Hanging cool in your caress, keep me safe and dry. Unconcious.
I am an abbozzo, several times to be erased.
Clay formation, fist destruction.
Smash me down and remold my curves, they seek to be fit for your eyes.
I am a studder, voice tripping over vowels. Heterophemy.
Eyes blinking a panic, hurricane in India. Rampallion to the East.
I am weening my brain.
Umbiliciform. Scissors snipping nursing ties. I am on my own.
I am a volcano of words.
Ash spilling from my mouth, burns. The querulist, fine-tuned.
I am belly-swollen envy.
A warm embrace embodying maieutics. Lacking kin but loving all. Atocia.
I am locks of wisdom.
Haematic glow as it flows from my head, freely. An autodidact at best.
His consort. Kisses planted and growing life.
Scopophilic worship, I am the map his fingers trace on my skin.
His indulgence. Epidermis dactylogram. I am forever imprinted with his love.
Simply his.
Onerously me.

leeren Geist

I play pretend with the uneasy sense of loneliness.
Eyes at the back of your head, watching you undress and feeling ugly.
I play in the dark and pray for ghosts.
Talking to empty walls, begging for attention with the echo of my voice hollowing out my eardrums.

This is where I end up.
Surrounded by love and happiness.
Friends and Family.
The world, a giant happy face.
All while my head withers away with voices.
coaxing me to swallow mouthfuls of pills.
tying endless ropes that lead to the punchline.
I'm willing to be the joke.
An accident waiting to happen.

I'll do anything to make them stop.