Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Highland Shadow

That powerful motivator
Descends each time I grace these walls
Walk these paths of mine history.

I lose myself
Does my deity
or the faith of these old souls protect me?
Do prayers travel upon the breeze
Following the coast of my existence
To settle upon me
Wrap themselves around my branches
Through my leaves
To cause me to sing this song
And it's delicate variations
For my forest to hear?

For Jesus is real?
For real?
For living is real
Death is mystery
Faith, obedience
Obedience, structure
An attachment to that which methodically
Is torn down by it's very architect

Each time I return
I understand a little more
Acquiescence a little more
Because the spirit too is me
Despite my will to abolish it
From those fields of my follies...

Unconscious Alteration

Wheeling these streets
Faded hues speak.
Everywhere I look
Snapshots spring forward of what used to be
As I hear our younger selves call.

Stories froth within my mind
Leaving me with just as many questions
As I had before I had so many answers;
Where did we go wrong?

Was this God's punishment
That our laborers would be damned
Haunted by our stumblings careless
Intentional with the weight of excuse
That this is a hard world...

The neurosis of my instant self
Against these parched and peeling images
Somehow intently tucked away in my parents closets
Bonded to a degree that to separate them
Would mean a loss of history
That those captured souls had even existed,
Overtakes me
Rears it's appetite to destroy me
With each new loss
To the former glory
I only now realize we'd existed in...

Wheeling these streets
My routes to expiation explained
I again shift the stitching of my seams.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014


I wanted to write a letter,
But that seemed too formal for our affair.
Wanted to do as he'd done
Look back and find the semblance
And acknowledgements of those things which freshly haunt
Of those who
Seek the light
And the fact that you, unlike anyone else,
Because, as you stated,
You always had a preference for females
(Thanks for the confirmation of me being an afterthought)....

I wanted to write you a letter
While you still breathe
Not for closure, but to witness any thought of hope fade
In our understanding each other;
This monster you created in me
Has no more tears to shed
Has no more heart to break
Devoid of all longing
It has nothing left
Other than to feed upon itself
A continuous self-sustaining act
Which allows me to exist
Somewhere on the borders of heaven and hell;
Purgatory maybe?

That just makes me come off as adolescent
But my gaping wound will not close to heal.
Even if you did right by me from beyond the grave
I have enough years to haunt me
Remind me
No amount of breath
No amount of characters scribed
Or verses memorized from your god to mine
Could polish the shit you perpetrated so willingly.

Once you assumed I would take your offer
That I was afraid of the world you were ready to cast me out into
(Purposefully perhaps?)
But I left anyways
Stumbled over and over again
Until I was myself
A man
Sitting here now trying his best to thank a person
Who never once genuinely seemed thankful for him,
A consolation
Pacification of sorts
Still waiting...

I guess I'll just take the next flight out.


Right now I'm missing it
Thinking on it again too much
To a point I know
Where if I close my eyes
I'd wake up there
And I wouldn't want to return.

You see, right now
I'm wanting it
Thinking of every way possible to get it
To a point of necessity
Damn near a tragedy
Because I know It's of no use to me
At least upon the facade these streets see
As I'm shuffling
Caught in one too many lines
While trying to get back to me
Without seeming selfish and needy.

But if I wake up there,
I'm afraid I'll never leave...

Monday, February 3, 2014


How many times must I ask the fog to come
Bring me it's enigma
Shadows and illusions
Dancing elegant with every lead of me
As I run careless into it's embrace?

I wish your brisk vapor to moisturize me
Saturate this depleted breath
Bring fervor my lungs
That the essence may nourish
These tired elements of my composition
Sending me into a movement as unbound as thee.

How many times
Till you
Ingest me to be lost within you
Till you at last dance with the sun

I rue my chances of waking
To see you greet my panes
Winter, like you,
Despite the snow I see
Is evolving;
I rue my chances of waking
To think you greet my pains
Then to run to you
Only to be greeted by the rain.

Eight Inches

Winter lays it's bitter lips upon my flesh
Crystallizes my blood
Until shards desintergrate me from the inside out.

I huddle in my conscience
Warmer with dreams of flight
And a blue veil of clarity which seems lacking now
Here in nature's steel,
Unmoving and brutal.

I long for the sun's love
Think on past frolics within it's rays
Naive ejaculations of achievement and conquering
When alas,
I was the one being conquered.

Long to feel again
Like everything was virgin
Untouched by the sheltered me
Just ripe and waiting to let their nectarous juices flow
Stain my fingers
As they grasp frantically
Because this time,
I know the importance of their sustenance
And I cannot
Will not get enough from their groves
Because I haven't all the time
And I know this all too well.

Winter laid it's bitter lips
Gave me a sweet dream of my everythings
Left me to huddle
Counting down the days...