musings & scribbles

“But, it’s not fair. I.. I never had my chance. It’s not fair!”

“You’re right.”

“What can we do? How do I regain my chance?”

“You can’t.”

“Who am I, but a humble servant of the west-blown winds. How may I challenge the aristocracy of this town? By never buying but a penny’s worth of their goods, from me they’ve still made a killing. What smoothened texture the air holds when I reside in clouds face-leveled by their origin; perhaps all is as by day found to be, perfectly fine. What night brings more than what was left to bed when gone dreaming? None. None besides the night of storm, when deals of death lay struck or striking, or tense night of concept’s mass. What madness was I speaking hence?”

“You needn’t worry.”

“Ciao.”

and from another angle,
her brightest white
grows bare to soiled
bone, a match of
fur and structure

a faded slab of spongerock
floats, loosely between
the blackdrop of stars,
traced with edge of earth’s
slightly arching shadow

listening to the cure
“just like heaven” (acoustic)

i followed steps from feet before me,
hoping nothing existed to hold my walk,
but the worst is always unseen, for
how can you know about invisibility–
i tasted you again in another tear,
trickled way from cheek to lip ‘fore shoe

how perfect.
picture’s purpose, driven,
drives through sight to
heart, a pitted mess rath’ broke
than breaking– cut off than
cutting– forth, through sight,
purpose drives, letting photo’ees
hold face just one more minute, ’til
draft dries, nev’ to be augmented.

ah.
how..
light the heart,
broken,
breaking,
shattered
while pumping..

how..
soft the chest,
pounded-pounding–
slipped further down to
pit, ‘trapped, lined with
spike, twist, disemboweling sticks, stuck carefully
so as to prop rather than
let fall, slip,
fumble in the turf,
but
i do anyway

but in my mind, less my words, i know– i feel the world is strangling me to actions i’ve known, too long, as replacements for you, my prize, my unwinnable prize.

and however much i know
of these, yours, feelings
i left upon a doorstep, left
burning but not stomped
out just yet, let them ash–
and however much i know
of these, i cannot say
with certainty you will
one day, upon a time,
long for me as i long
for you– i know you
never will, yet how
beautiful the flame
upon your step,
brilliant blue, as
blue as bent sky
shrunk to see
in palm–
thinned to fragile tip,
rays of sun, anchored,
stretched to spread
weight of air to rise, to
spike in chance of
‘scape– breaking

yet what use is a light
in day’s time, keep
such things for
need at night.

should i throw some dirt
upon this, my puppy-
brown coat, perhaps
draw you in to see i
need your help here,
i need someone to
hold on to when i
slip into those drag-
downs, tallied up to
push me down when
i try, i rise, i fall again
but i’ll push harder now
maybe i’ll become a
man, a responsibility’s–
will you let me know
or should i guess at
some other ocassion,
not when these hands
keep lifting me from
free-falling, you raise me
to float, to peak, to
drift, caught in you
in spin in thought of
you, a line i drew
to never cross, as
we’re not meant to..

real

poison’d, lobed,

faught to say it, but you know i’d never be able to love you as you need be,
love.

And there sits he, the
one with hand over and
we all know why