My tears will have dried when I wake up
Maybe that's why I'd rather sleep
Poetry
11pm
A 90 minutes walk, a note book.
It was really humid and the thick pages were soft and yielding. Blue ink on purple matrix.
It looked black on gray under the lamp post.
The mandatory mist around its light making me remember nothing. Only to check on my podometer once in a while. And to draw a line after each gust of words.
The occasional glance, a jogger with a dog, a teenaged couple smiling silently, digging their moment.
I can't break out a sweat. Six pages already filled. Each street corner has held my shadow for a few minutes.
African masks, green or eggplant walls displaying them to the parked car across the street. I want to ring the bell and tell them they're out of style.
Over four thousand steps and I reach brand new asphalt. The lighting sucks, but wow look at the gorgeous park, the valley, the birch trees, Bob Dylan, another page is consumed.
I wasn't born to lose you he says, and I write I think who is, really? It's all in the want. The light is red, but what the hell. It's a four lane and a quick jog.
While I surrender four bucks for taurine, guarana and caffeine she looks at the pad with a star on it and a pen stuck in the spiral binding like it's a foreign object.
It's an S leading to my home. Spots on aluminum siding and fake waterfalls and the end of my mp3 rotation. I'm done.
Empty, the next page awaits.
Guide
Little by little the night turns around
-Set the controls for the heart of the sun
click up here… still can't put in a player.
Everyone is lost. No one is safe on their paths. Some have strayed further than others, and might struggle a little harder to come back.
We are looking around. That look. Those words. Lost. Whatever caught our eye to make us stray, it was all it took.
Find some hands, any hands. For the remedy is in the touch. The way will be shown through a communion in the void of our collective soul.
Past in fall
A silence I bred through smiles and being there was never enough.
An empty inbox as my soul ready to burst from need not real.
There was nothing, I was nothing, until and then and now.
A start line as elusive as a wolf's smile.
A finish as definite as the last drop of cum drying on the edge of my mouth.
Time passes, time dies, and so does desire for shiny new skin.
To possess, to own, to take, to taste for the first time.
When the leaves changed colors it was old and it was new.
When snow fell over the warmth of our bed it was too late for a song.
Music could do nothing to change the mood.
I have drowned only to be safe, to be quiet.
I have drowned only to finally breath the air I was denied.
But it's cold, and it's dangerous, and it's slippery down here.
And without a moment's notice I might fall back.
I might look back and wish for the wave to take me again.
Anything.
Anything for the sound or the colors or the breeze.
I and there
Around the bend
Around, it's somewhere, right here
Across the divided earth
Over the fantastic hills
I can climb anything
I can jump as high as… yes, that high
A slow tumble towards the end
A soft landing for my balance was near perfect
No scabs to pick
Nothing to call home about
Just a few more miles, jumps, steps, dashes
Just a little farther
It's right around the corner
Still summer
You don't need to know what I do all day,
It's as much as I know watch it waste away-Wolfmother/Vagabond (click)
Oh, I saw colors, colors, colors flooding the day
Filled me with smiles and questions and visions
They drove me and I drove them and we got there
The colors, everywhere, free of bonds, free
Fly, hover, jump, float I did and did not come down
In my dream in my mind in my eyes
To be one of them, radiant and exploding with clarity
Mingled, twisted, in embrace
In a multitude, a single color
In concrete
Sandra loves Éric says the sidewalk, as I put my feet on it.
I could've avoided it. A second before, when I saw it.
Walked over a summer love. Didn't leave a dent.
Over a beer drenched french kiss.
Over curious fingers on a slow afternoon.
Over Sandra's tears and Éric's regrets.
Wet cement, as tender as the softest tree trunk.
As smooth as the tallest rock on the side of the highway.
As permanent as the folds and lines in my hands.
I looked. I saw. Felt. Then put my foot down.
They're not going anywhere, Sandra and Éric.
I am.
The cliff
No matter how I looked at it, the height stayed.
A thousand hours spend thinking about how and why and is this really necessary.
A millions words, not meant to harm, not meant to push away.
Thrown before me, in the hopes that they would dissapear.
But they floated. They waited. Watched me as I pondered how badly I needed to jump.
There is no other side. No invisible bridge that will take me across the gulf.
Only… I still hoped you see?
All my Words, waiting for me. Like smiling demons. Like crying angels.
And as I jumped I put my hands up in the air.
They couldn’t figure out if I was reaching out or giving up.
So they watched me fall.
And I watched them watch.
One day I’m sure I’ll reach the bottom.
I don’t know when, I haven’t looked down yet.
A movement
Did you feel the shift? Was there a shift?
As silences grew big enough to swallow the sounds
My stride stopped by a sudden change in the melody
The song remains the same, turned low
Meaning can be found between days of noise
Much more than between lines that were never written
The idea of what is and what should never be
Is lost in the caves of my good conscience
When the well is dry is when everything is real
The realities catch up to the dreams
And kill the thought that they ever happened
But for a single note that I still hear
When the words no longer speak their music
When the memories no longer evoke the living
A shift happens
Did you feel the shift?
Was there a shift?
Oh how I wish I'd breath once more
The air filled with the ghosts of chance
The promise of freshly fallen rain
And the warmth of spring's embrace
On the waterfront
The ducks were still there. The music was the same. I was out of breath again.
Has a fall been that silent before? I see everything rushing by. I don’t grasp at anything.
Slide.
I’ve never let go of anything that big. The handles carved experiences in my hands.
Miles cannot erase. My knees pumping cannot erase. My heart ready to burst will not erase.
One day, I said. One day you’ll see the ducks and hear the music.
It will take your breath away.