Forever Thinking

As read Thursday, July 23rd, at 40 Story Radio Tower.  http://40storyradiotower.com

Processing, collaborating, meditating.
Digressing, hesitating,
wondering on a whim facing.
What's the decision?
In what kind of provision?
I will on an alliance
in magnitude
or miniscule.
I am forever thinking.
Anxiousness in the falter.
There's no balance in a regret.
The right choice,
the wrong evidence.
A stressful situation.
A careless response.
Thought processes:
You die alone.
You care too much.
Loving, despairing,
in destitute baring.
Reflecting, directing,
nonchalantly affecting.
Conditioning, repositioning,
wondering who's listening...
Did you hear what I said?
Because I can't get out of my head.
Dawdling, modeling,
corresponding.
Waiting, hating,
jealousy berating.
Growing, knowing,
hold on
I'm gloating.
Saddening, maddening,
seeing....
It's what I read that shakes my well-being.
This is how I'll deal
Give myself a pep talk spiel. 
What's on my mind
I can't leave behind.
Tiring, admiring,
sleep loss conspiring.
The time is notoriously
stuck in consideration.
Looking for elation.
Inspire my rest.
I've done my best
to figure out everything in exhaustion. 

Arsonist

There's fire inside these flesh walls.
Monumental....
god help us all.
The flicker,
and smoke in my breath
that follows after the tiny tinder
went up like a ribbon of gauze.
This life needs an exhaust.

Burn to live...
Live, to fan the awesome burn.
It's not satisfactory
when we are safe.
A dangerous silence only shows
soon there will be a wreck.

If you stand with a
handful of unlit matches,
be careful around my heart fire,
and as you see me lose the battle,
of this inextinguishable inferno
promise to save my ashes.
Hold it with certainty that I was
highly flammable.
There was little warning.
Some things in this world
are destined to catch fire.
Namely when you swell 
with an arsonist.

Supernatural

Every time I turned that corner,
I swore I saw someone there.
There never was.

An apparition in a shadowy disguise
must play tricks on daytime eyes.
In the night time hours
we rush the hallucination.
Quell your response time.
The epic thrust of the supernatural
twists the faint of heart
of what is real, and what is true
those durable geniuses might see right through.
We are not ghosts.
Only restless souls
tethered on comfort.
Sometimes there,
but not always.
Wishing things would change
but not ready to go to the otherside.
This spirit waits.

When you push the confines
past the veil,
how the petrified quake.
They view trancendental
alter egos
in a dim light,
struggling in disbelief.
Thank circumference there comes a darkness.
We can be
without the spotlight of the sun.
It's just begun.
Escape to that side.
Drop down a pride 
It's too much to see any other time.
That can't possibly be real.
You didn't see anything.

Not everyone enjoys a ghost story,
and I don't mean to scare you,
but sometimes you may also
see the living dead.
Part of us clings to the past
while the other wants something more.
Its an euphoric response to noticing we are still alive.

The supernatural
comes out of just finding
that you are human.
A speciality that drifts the unlikely
or disbelief with a snap of the finger.
Notice how I look at you
as if you're paranormal
supernatural, a figment of my imagination....
I can't seem to see
that you are actually there,
then for days frighten myself.
You're just that amazing.

Wear and Tear

"Hey kid, the key to happiness is simplicity."  The tread is so worn on his tires, and he tells me I should get a bike. 

Wear and tear
my fingertips are bare.
No more identity.

You divulge a karma.
It wears me down.
The hideous sound
of the exhausted
lingers in condolence.

She said, "You are so damn strong."
I can't fathom letting any more grueling sacrifices in.
Don't beat a dead horse.
I have traveled
too far
and yet are in the same insipid place.
Let me dream.
All of this work
ages and corrodes.
I shed my skin.
Look for it in old photography.
It appears I've had some deprieciation
although we can agree
I was not of ordinary use.
The grinding stone
came to a halt.
When I crawled away
the wear and tear
removed my frame.
I am left in such a way
that I had hoped
for some words to lift my structure up.
You are tiresome too.

That day nagged in fog.
Fade into the background.
No one will know you.
It will be a bright new atmosphere.
I begin again.
Who you are
and what you want to be
asphyxiates that cause....
or does it bring it forward?
I want to leave now,
but all of this wear and tear
broke me down.
There has to be something
that finally drags
all of this despondency away.
If you ever find
you've had enough rest
and I glowed in serenity
fresh and new
let's get the hell out of here...
take me with you.

Sway

Not too boring.
We run away.
Please come back.
Late one night
the crickets sang loudly.
I thought I heard a guitar.
He left in a hurry.
I said nothing.
That's not good enough.
Where do you stand?
I know who left the note on the door.
It was who said the halo was handed in the depths of loveless hell.
I studied my palm.
Gave notice to the flash on the side of my vision.
If you want to direct my path straight,
bring a blindfold.
I'd rather not open the book than to pull out a disposition
yet to be seen.
Those eyes said something different.
I read everything in a considered passage.
Sway me.
I never have time to go back and forth on this notion
but it takes up a lot of my life.

Fenced

Perimeter confines.
Where you wander is not by mere curiosity.
The deck is worn,
and the concrete is cracked.
What is left to borrow
cements seldom ends.
I don't have boundaries.
Houses radiate value.
The domain aches in saint features.
I yelled over the fence
and no one heard.

Expose My Flaws

You may say it's a flaw.
I say I remembered how to live.
Over the talks she said
she was cold and damp.
By October she couldn't tolerate this anymore.
That's a hardy repetition.

Meanwhile I had wallowed
never finding the flash of light...
Although it danced in shadows.
One day I saw illuminance in the mirror.
I was blinded.
Thank you for being you.

Ukelele

Relax on this strum.
A thought always tuned
on a small instrument.
Short songs worked on the same melody
over the free flowing.
Caring for the musical talents
that play the same object simple and plain
have caused side steps.
Turned corners.
Hiding in egos.
Take care in your enjoyment.
We prime the case with a dollar.
Cash fairly integrated notice and distraction.
Memories like these are worth a thousand words.

Tear Me Away

There's a reason...

my dress stays folded.
This pencil doesn't leave the paper.
No lines and loose
without binding.
That's just so you can't tear me away.
I was afraid it might all fall apart.
Helplessly bound.
There's going to be trouble.

When you tear me away
I'm not creased or gently cut out.
I allowed you to rip me from reality.
Neatness is some courtesy
like offering a seat on a parkbench.
Catching scorn from a paper cut is more the style.
Feel that moment,
and hear a violent disconnect.
A stitching breaks free,
and hands loosen grip.
Cascade to the floor.
Look away.
You have a shred...
half if your lucky,
but you tore me away....
What have I done?
Folded and tucked somewhere
you carry an unraveling piece of me.
Tear me away:
I never want to face the truth today.
Tear me away:
Interwoven in layers of dolor,
and tailored to an unequivocal lure.

I've been staring down the palpability
which is the most polite thing left to do.
Tear me away:
I want the rude scholar
turning everything upsidedown.
Why should I care if the truth follows.
It's time to be that bold.
Tear me away:
Grab hold tightly.
It's too late.
Tear me to shreds.

Killing Time

Killing time..
If your mouth is the gun,
and I stand bewildered
at sanity.
I watched lips speak,
and sorrow fade.
Slay the regret.
Bury my guilt.
Put to rest the living dead.
It was an opportunity well spent even if I follow you to hell.
It was worth the sacrifice
to be serving a minute
as longed for in hours
during the weeks I have wasted
dreaming of a face.
The hour glass empties
and nothing is done.
But as you are with me
a moment can stand still,
and the rest can drift by slowly.
Let the seconds fortify everyday
that we remember
what it is like
to lose track of time.
To reach for a hand in slow motion
and to rewind the favorite parts
during my dull days where
I just kill time
until my lips meet your's again.

Accidental Thoughts

Accidently on purpose
of what shouldn't be....
I woke up in a panic to write
as I tossed my head back
in violent denial.
We can't persieve any daydream
law bound defiance
or love song
hovering in ideology.
Silence it's name.
Close your eyes.
This is what keeps poets awake at night.