The inconsistency of my thoughts
tangles me with myself.
I am unable to control
the footsteps of my mind.
As my left leg longs
to step right,
my right leg reaches
to the left,
yet I know
that I should only move forward.
I trip over myself
and fall more times
than I can stand,
so I remain
twisted
on the path to virtue.
I ache at the memory
of your unclouded eyes,
as I recall the clear,
crystalline reflection
that vividly portrayed
me–
Only me.
Now, when I catch glimpse,
I see that the galaxy
has erupted
and each and every star
fell into your eyes.
Blinded by the reflections
that now infest your mind,
you can no longer
remember mine.
I have always been warned
of fighting fire
with fire,
but what if I’ve already
been burned?
Step into the tide
and let the waves crash
over your tarnished being
and drown the demons
that infested
your desiccated soul.
The crowd of emptiness
welcomed the onslaught
and all you could was allow
them to encroach on you.
Find the sea and step
into the tide–
the water will wash
the afflictions away.
——————————
This is the first poem I’ve written in awhile because I haven’t had much time to write or think about things to write. So, it’s not my best but it’s something. I didn’t want to stop writing and forget that I love it so much. Hopefully I’ll be able to get a few more out this week. I hope you enjoy!
I don’t know
who will read this,
but I know you
never will
but there’s this alarm
sounding throughout my system
signaling that it’s time
for me to wake up.
I need you to know
that I will miss you
and everything
I once believed in.
I’ll miss the times
when life was simple
and I looked toward
the future
because it was us,
together,
taking on the world.
I have been dreaming
of those days,
hoping they would return,
but as I’ve been lying
in my dream state of mind,
I’ve found it hard
to open my eyes
to a you that I’ve never known.
But as I’m slowly waking,
I can see the truth– you
have never been you.
I needed you to be
who I thought you were,
so I closed my eyes
and erased all of the signs
that could have helped me realize
that you were just a dream,
a figment I created
out of the stranger
who stood next to me.
My fingers are turning blue from the cold.
The numbing,
aching,
unable to move your body
more than a shiver, cold.
Crystallized droplets
softly touch my bare skin.
I stand, ankle deep
in the white snow
surrounded by venturers
ready to take the plunge.
As I’m thinking to myself,
what have I done?
I wrap my arms around my naked stomach-
freezing from the gentle breeze,
waiting for the whistle
to signal movement.
Fweeeeeeet!
I trudge through the cotton-laid ground,
Splash-
quickly burying myself in the sea
of ice and fear.
Once the waters reach my waist,
I can no longer bear
the bitter bite of the frost.
Turning around,
I head back to the solid ground
to find warmth and comfort
in the knowledge
that I will never try that again.
I could feel it in my bones that day.
The once gentle breeze
picked up and tossed itself
toward me, blowing away
every shattered piece of myself
that sat on the surface of my skin.
I had never brushed off
those broken pieces.
I wore the shrapnel
of my own war–
I wanted everyone to see
that I arose from a battle.
I wanted them to know my pain,
my hurt, my anger.
I wanted an excuse to barricade
myself from the world
so that I no longer stood a chance
of ever breaking again.
But that day,
the calm draft
suddenly turned bitter.
The wind swept away
every last remnant
of all that had once
been fractured.
I tried to capture the pieces
as they floated away.
I reached up
and grasped at the air,
but all I caught
was dust.
As I stood on the embankment,
glanced over the edge,
and watched the water careen
through the narrow creek,
crashing, lightly, as it fell
over rock,
over rock,
over rock,
all seemed still– except
that glistening cascade,
humming its constant gurgle.
The skeleton trees
lurched over the creek,
shielding it
from the eyes of the world,
concealing it
from everyone, but me.
I, under those bones,
stood atop an old blanket
of dry leaves, and clung
to the bark to keep steady
as I leaned with the dirt,
with the trees,
with the water,
and for a moment,
I felt those stones inside
begin to wear down,
as the stream
flowed down my cheeks,
along with the creek.
I saw it perched
outside your bedroom window–
just sitting there, searing
its beaded, black eyes
through the pane.
Its slate wings slowy waved
back
and forth
as it crowed over its view.
The utterance of that wicked
sound drew another to its side
and that pair of feathered omens
gave hint that something
as dark as they
was on its way.
Their calls to the others
echoed through the bitter air,
freezing my lungs
and numbing my body–
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t move.
Standing next door
on my porch,
glaring across the yard,
I could do nothing
but watch
as they waited,
patiently,
for the murder to arrive.
Maybe it’s all just an illusion–
A facade set up
for my eyes, solely
and when I turn away,
everything changes,
everything transforms itself.
It molds and configures,
it adjusts and adapts
to accommodate
the next viewer.
Maybe the world isn’t composed
of what we choose to see,
but what chooses to be seen.
Do we hold the controls
of our own perception,
or is it guided
by everything around us?
If so, what happens
when no one’s looking?
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