Poem: Like Confetti

Torn Heart,

Strewn across the grass like confetti after the piñata
breaks, the forgotten aftermath of momentary luster,
only to be trodden on by the party-goers drunk on
their own invulnerability,
the feeling that infinity can be grasped and that
the world stops turning when you stare at the moon,

your friends skip down the night-shaded streets,
never looking down to see the ground sink into the distance
and feel the weight of their consciousness, of their existing
on such a night where
your heart is tattered by your thoughts,
by your inability to breathe with ease

 

your Torn Heart lays strewn across the grass like confetti
in celebration of your anxiety

 

 

Poem:Not Again

I think of you when my eyelids flicker against the sunlight,
A brief flash, a memory of imagined dreams that tease
My soul with a cautious longing for your hand in mine

I think of you when nighttime consumes the sidewalks and
The thin cracks expand into caverns that must be avoided
For the safekeeping of my beating heart.

I think of you when the forks clatter against dishes and
Waiters buss them away, stealing the leftovers of my meal,
Cleaning the mess that I try not to create.

Escape my thoughts,
Runaway from my senses,
For I do not want you to become absorbed by my mind,
To become a part of me as so many others have
In broken-hearts passed

Poem: Walls

When you laugh,
Your eyes reveal a depth of kindness,
A well of affection that spills forth,
A tide of love for others,
If only you could feel your own warmth.

Your walls sit high and line your eyes,
A barrier to keep out others
But when you smile at me,
See that I am not bothered by
The love in your soul that sits
Smothered by reality,

Your walls do not define you
Nor do they prevent you from finding love,
For even with your walls
I still find myself entranced
By an imprisoned person.

I want to free you from your soul.

Poem: Why Does it Matter

If I break your heart tonight,
Hold onto its pieces until
I can bring them back together,
A shattered replica of the past,
A reminder that things will not last
That things will not be the same
As they are now.

What is the meaning of this all,
Of the world, of reality
If it is but a fallacy,
A perception of what could never be?

Why does it matter if I break your heart
Or if you break mine
Or if we get lost in the throws of time
Or if we end it all tonight?

Why does it matter if we live or die
If we carry on again to beg
For restitution
To speak to a god
That is not there
That can do no good
To heal our lost minds?

why does it matter if I breathe or cry
Tell the truth or suffocate
On all the lies
That I tell to last one more night.

Poem: Into Music

As I fade into the music,
As I drift into the beat,
I lose my soul to a rhythm
That pounds the sounds of my mind
And lends my heart quiet.

I lose my soul to a rhythm
That saves my breath and
Allows me to breathe at ease,
With the tugging of desperation
Relinquished.

I lose my soul to a rhythm
That closes my eyes
And drifts me into a state of
omnihuman,
A state of being beyond myself.

A state of not quite there,
But full immersed in the beat.

A state of almost alive,
Where the world is almost sweet.

As I fade into music,
I become free.

Poem: I miss you

I miss that look in your eyes
That told me that my world was safe,
That the plans for the future
Would remain unchanged.

I miss your hands,
The way they carressed away reality,
An elixir given to stave away
The banality of living.

I miss your lips,
The way their touch would stop
My heart and head and would
Save my mind from thinking,

I miss the way your body
Would surround me when I panicked,
When the world became impossible,
When you would ensure that I was okay
And that the world was safe and worth every day.

I miss you.
Come home.

Poem: Out of Reach

Experiences fade into memories,
fade into thoughts,
fade into dreams,
fade into forgotten alleys,
A maze of myths that might have once happened,
But one could not be certain.

For, did your smile once bring me to life?
Or am I imagining a time,
Dreaming of a life that I imagined?

What is reality but a confluence of events
That we can never really touch once more,
Thoughts and actions out of reach,
Out of touch,
The past unable to be confirmed
And the future more unsteady.

Our reality is out of reach.