"I see today differently." - you say to me
"Hold my hand.
Let us walk and pass through more words." - my response
The banging quiet holds cuffs of metal bolted to the nerve of gritted teeth.
Sinewy barbed wire,
tacks down the a.m. ambition
once shitty influencers wake from dead napping
It's coffee without creamer these days
To unload more saturated fat
Making my innards bulletproof.
And they said 'defense' was an honorable role.
Positioning against all would-be aggressors
From possible point-taking
However, how mutable is the actual definition
To "defending" oneself, against - Self...?
Sssshhh.... I'm splitting words now,
Semantics never knew how far I'd wish to go.
What if the "Aggressor" seeks kindness,
Seeks love, and seeks softness.....
To satisfy hearts and all things 'cozy'
That need and want you and I for soft landing?
WTFuck then?
Are we blocking the 'point' of love?
... the point of life?
... the very point of existence?
I sit here for so many months, allowing
Time to turn into boulders and goad me.
Goad me into thinking that if I
Sit and do nothing - those monoliths
Of unspent potential will roll back
Down the fucking mountain I hauled
Them up - and crush me.
But- (never-ever start a sentence with the word 'but')
But!! The DEFENDER in me. Ahh yes,
The Wily defender - that bitch argues
points even better. She testifies
often that when that time arrives,
as my nerve and need settle into
their twilight - and the honey-pit betwixt
legs confines itself to the ether,
I will not only be alleviated, but
Proud to have outrun my tender soliloquies,
With gold-cup (first place variety) in hand.
Really? Really though.
Is this the context of, the woman in me?
Is this the race I run?
How the fuck can this- be O.K.?
And I am not saying I will progressively
Pursue any love-making mess
That gets to me, in desperation.
I am simply saying I should not employ
The use of an executioner, damn near
daily - to snuff my dreams of
Love and care.
There are many ways that love will
change a tempo, a vibration, and
even, our homegrown - inner chemistry
Would not the fine wind be a solid
mate for a day? ...to lavish away
that musky stubbornness we crank
hard into our elbows?
Or what of the wish that a
Dandelion wisp may bring?
To pluck and say 'yes' to the
Whimsy of its promise?
You and I need something more.
Fuck what we're owed, fuck all we've known. Fuck the garden
Of darkness we've tended to.
Say 'Yes' to the pleasantries that
Sluff away grime.
Say yes to the sunshine and becoming
More open to nature's flattery.
Say yes to a higher vibration;
Say yes to the light.
It won't be easy if we tell ourselves that.
So let us tell ourselves - otherwise.
Let ourselves become - lifted.
Love,
- Me
September came and left
And I, all the drier.
Have become a canker
With a voice that sings long,
Powerfully, and true.
Raiding my warmth for nothing.
Sinister.
Mute.
Decomposing.
The seriousness of self
Remediating.
Habitual life of mine
How is it we arrived here
To this place of festering distraction
Organic matter everywhere
Living, breathing, existing
Despite the foam I'm whipping.
A muscle pulled
The drawn bow of my back
Repenting. Paid for with interest
To the running up with weight,
Even when I knew better.
The blistering heat, it pushed me.
I slink into this mess
As practiced, forging wider borders
To extend my mournful obsessing.
Wtf is this poison I lather on profusely
Dicking around in aged cynicism
Waiting for permission to dry up
Waste is wasting more resources
Idly I carry on with it, welcoming decay.
Admitting regularly in silence but boldly nonetheless
That my time spent on love of amorous design
Be shot dead by this greasy shit elbow of mine.
Winter, into eternity, moving in.
