the inevitable lack of grace
with which i plunge into
the depth of my emotions
is the reason i struggle against my words
as they hold me down
quite unlike a lover would
make perpetual questions out of lonely answers
lonelier still, though the rhythm of what is and what if
makes waves in the sickly complacent ripple of when, never, how
when never how
echoes of here and now
only time and passing glances allow
taste it
i dare you
before i spill my wasted discontent all over everything i knew
taste my
favorite
flavor
before it spoils in my rancor
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Saturday, December 08, 2007
right now
happiness
is not on the bottom of my shoe, or a bottle,
or a phase,
nor
under the words i heard myself say, in a daze,
or in place
of my
face
or the lack of grace i entertain,
time
and time
and time again
and when how why do i
make such
incoherent lies
or utter
fake
sighs
('cause
when i spy
with my little eye
something that is
so real
i can't
bear
to
feel
it,
i don a disguise
the one
that
makes fake plays, sideways
lost in a freak maze,
turns the wrong way
again
and
again)
and i speak
nothings
freely
and weakly
ask me
i'll speak free
of nothing,
don't believe me
i knew what i was talking about,
once.
and seem to deny it ever since.
but my truth
left
prints
that consistently convince
me
that all else
is a
waste
of
time
so i resign
from my position
as
ignorantly blissed out
right
now
is not on the bottom of my shoe, or a bottle,
or a phase,
nor
under the words i heard myself say, in a daze,
or in place
of my
face
or the lack of grace i entertain,
time
and time
and time again
and when how why do i
make such
incoherent lies
or utter
fake
sighs
('cause
when i spy
with my little eye
something that is
so real
i can't
bear
to
feel
it,
i don a disguise
the one
that
makes fake plays, sideways
lost in a freak maze,
turns the wrong way
again
and
again)
and i speak
nothings
freely
and weakly
ask me
i'll speak free
of nothing,
don't believe me
i knew what i was talking about,
once.
and seem to deny it ever since.
but my truth
left
prints
that consistently convince
me
that all else
is a
waste
of
time
so i resign
from my position
as
ignorantly blissed out
right
now
the sum of these parts equals nothing i recognize
i am not the stupid little things i do
(sometimes, i'm just stupid
while you remain you)
i am passion, and laughing,
at times distracted from enchantment
by the mildly wicked pull
of the moment
i love. it's true,
the sense of wildly inspired desire
is a ruse
melodramatics
amusement
a failure to thrive
a string of things
denying truth
and
life
making me
a cacophony
of something i am not
which is not
all
i've
got
(endlessness
in my pocket)
(sometimes, i'm just stupid
while you remain you)
i am passion, and laughing,
at times distracted from enchantment
by the mildly wicked pull
of the moment
i love. it's true,
the sense of wildly inspired desire
is a ruse
melodramatics
amusement
a failure to thrive
a string of things
denying truth
and
life
making me
a cacophony
of something i am not
which is not
all
i've
got
(endlessness
in my pocket)
Monday, December 03, 2007
order's up
the discovery of freedom is a
feeling not an
action
if you act, it loses passion
becomes 'something you tried'
make nothing happen
just inspire
and decide
climb the magic carpet
and enjoy the ride
feeling not an
action
if you act, it loses passion
becomes 'something you tried'
make nothing happen
just inspire
and decide
climb the magic carpet
and enjoy the ride
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