Give me
Every
Piece of you
So I can
Carry you
With me
Everywhere I go
musings & scribbles
If I ever
Had you
Not,
I would
Fill my
Time
With life’s
Little breaths,
Hoping
Not to
Pull too much, so
I wouldn’t taste you
In the stale air
Around me.
If I ever
Had you
Not,
I would
Give my
Time
To those
With little left,
Hoping to
Find some solace in
Being with who
Needs one more
Soul beside them,
Empty or not,
But willing.
While I
Still have
You, I
Will skip
Beats
To li-
Sten to
Your own,
So you
Can be
With me
Forever.
You came
Running across
My thoughts
Again today,
Reminding me
Of everything
I saw
And
Everything I
Didn’t say.
You keep me further than
Arm’s length when you
Try to sleep, and I
Need to
Roll over, huddle in
With arms, hoping to
Bring about the morning,
That next chance at another
Night to hold you.
I don’t know what to do with my hands
When looking beyond my self.
I don’t know how to stand in a crowd
When in front of the camera.
I don’t know why I forget who I am
When placed in situations no different
From what I do every day and
I hope I have the mindset to remember
Rather than making myself up every time.
If you were only a memory,
I would bottle-up and drown
In time to never lose sight,
And cough into the cloth
Ripped from your favorite shirt.
If you were only a memory,
I would bottle-up and drown,
Forgetting being alive would be
The only way to honor who
We used to be, those two
Lovers licking wounds,
Falling as we walked and
Holding on to hands so warm
That fingers slipped away;
And we would see the night
As the only time to forgive ourselves
For staying still when there’s
So much we hadn’t done,
So much we hadn’t done,
So much we didn’t do.
And I can’t blame us,
Using the night to
Be together, still,
I can’t blame us,
Using the night to
Be together, still.
Memory, that most dull sense
Of being when not used,
Giving context only
To the holder and their eyes,
Forgetting the feeling of
The swirling many
Broke into the frame and
Providing direction off-screen;
And bless the records, those
Sights and sounds
Kept to lock in
The flavor of the meal,
Living, that most full sense
Of being part of more.
In rows, life gives order;
Bent, straight, grouped, stacked,
These rows provide a linking,
Giving weight and measured time,
To their purpose, place, and builders.
All the little
Shades and chips in
Marble speak to me,
Saying life
Is better broken, where
We can piece
Ourselves
Together,
And make it
Worth
A
Whole
Lot
More.
Give me Love,
That most subtle needle-born disease,
Giving me reason to
Find a place to stand and be me,
That city fool, that shitty fool, who
Can’t stop grinning, can’t stop grinning.
Give me Love,
The only way I know the rails are fake and
We’re of free will.
Give me Love,
She who tells me the dull walkings
Across the crossings,
Following the followers of
That artifact of survival, Hunger,
Are holding back the panic
Of knowing there is more to do
And we’re not doing it, and
We’re just putting
Foot forward, foot in door,
Foot in mouth, foot up,
Foot on others doing
The same.
Give me time to start a rhyme,
Give me grief for being bland,
I don’t care, it’s just a means
To acknowledge thoughts
You can’t think ’til I’ve
Put them down, giving
You time to start critiquing, complaining,
Constructing a better version but
Not putting them down because
They’d be derivative.
Following the followers of
That artifact of survival, Hunger,
The Primal Queen with reason, sure:
Calamity.
Ah, to be the rocks, just
Built, broken, swept aside
To be something else every few
Eons, sure, and getting to
See it all.
Victory formation in a parking lot,
Hoping she overlooks that I’m broke as fuck,
Giving her the first of several reasons
To find someone better, and
She does, and we’re going stronger,
Forgetting that we were beside but
Not inside to start our friendship, sure,
And that should give us time to
Know our outward appearances
And all the actions, sure,
But there’s reason inside, and that
Takes time to understand, and
Takes time to dissect, to know
And roll with without complaining,
Without giving another reason more.
So many movements of these thumbs as
I try to make sense of the churning thoughts,
Refusing to let the refuse decay without being said.
Victory formation in the driveway,
Playing like we knew what would happen
But still surprised by the score.
Give me time to form a thought and watch
The words, just watch the words.
That’s what holes in memory are: watching
And forgetting and being disconnected,
Looking for another channel, rather than
Turning off and stepping out, because
We can’t, we can’t, we can only witness
And be disassociated viewers/a
Live studio audience
Refusing to participate,
And tearing up their tickets to forget
They ever wasted their time.
Sometimes the best memories are the opening act.
You just hope the encore is worth waiting for.