It's fading so quickly, now
faint in the distance
feigning to listen
dying to be heard
A muddied flag in my muddled eyes
with a stain, a tear, in the
lower left-hand corner
It's rather pointless to mention
the brazen streak across the middle
we all have it somewhere,
our last hurrah.
It sings with such finality but the tone
the tone wavers on
the second
to last note,
a mumbled scream in a dense forest.
This nature does not beckon,
She does not
Desire
But I will
crouch in Her canopy
Ever Higher
reaching for the silken tatters
the air is a thick swarm
though it is lazy as well
a lethargic dawdling attempt
to be cavalier amidst
this heavy onslaught
day in day out
the edge of a
storm yet to pass
an opaque cloak
hiding our horizon
this too shall obliterate
the sacrament of our youth
I float face up
in the murk, the abyss
and consider turning over.
I am splashed with these
anxious droplets, thousands
and
I am quaking from this
chill, my organs in shock
and
You are not seeing these
hefty worries, millions
and
I am trying to remember
existence
and
warmth
and
I still float
on the edge of these infinite horizons
but
When I wake
if i wake
will I embrace the comfort of clouds?
or
will I gaze across barren skies?
Your gaze lies heavy as a weight
firm and unforgiving
upon my mind.
I wilt under its wait, Calm
Cool, Collected, and perfectly nonchalant
Your gaze burns as the surface of the sun
oil and lava
upon my eyes
I wonder if I should look away, Frenzied
Hot, Scattered, and incredibly obvious
My gaze falls quick as a baby bird
too young to fly
upon your heart
Who is knocking? pitter patter
Outside my door
my window
My mind.
On a particularly loud day
I will see her drift by:
words on the wind,
a maze swimming
over a sea of images.
She will never stop
she can't stop
until she finds her
Destination.
hidden,
safe.
Breeze through the trees
catches on the leaves
and I wonder why
I don't see her
anymore
than a barest glimpse--
a lens flare on a sunny day--
just enough of the big picture
to paint a stroke of doubt,
forever a scar on the back of my mind.
Happy Fucking Fourth of July by xXzemiaXx, literature
Literature
Happy Fucking Fourth of July
Seeing red
Weeping blue
White hot anger a coiled spring in my chest.
Always, Always
Age always forgets…
maturity remains with memories
while actions go forth blind.
Bind my dreams.
Lash my hopes.
Assault my heart.
Is it that hard to apologize?
Shame on Age:
it should fucking know better.
An older brother for a father
gifting tears
instead of butterfly kisses
Running On Empty, A 'How To' Guide by xXzemiaXx, literature
Literature
Running On Empty, A 'How To' Guide
How am I supposed to eat my buildings?
Poison’s on the drafting table:
my pencils are only protecting me,
my hands their loyal servants.
I was only ever kidding myself.
I’m not cut out for this life.
The only things I’m eating
are processed saturated fats.
How am I supposed to make an outline
when I have
No Fucking Idea what I’m doing?
Am I even doing?
Unchecked: essays, job, license, writing, drafting
Checked?
You don’t want to know what I’ve done,
what I’ve thought of doing.
You don’t want to know what I
Really
wish I’d do.
Is this my life?
Moping and Wishin
Many thoughts decide to cross my mind, while
a few choice thinks choose to tarry longer.
For example: is it in its nature
for a fox to be sly, or does it want
The Chase, Catch, Evasion as it so leads?
Perhaps, after a fashion, consider
the Alpha wolf…does he choose dominance?
Or is he really just pretending
to save face in the ‘innocuous’ pack.
Turn now to the helpless bunny rabbit:
a baby amongst mewling predators.
"At least it won’t be baked into a pie,"
whispers the half-assed, half-hearted conscious.
When we strip the animal metaphor
(Beating the dead horse or around the bush?)
might we be left with anything at al