Which part of our selves
do we rely upon to tell a story.
When is the mood right,
gives us the license to recognize just how far
the deeper end of things,
that place we’d rather never be,
is awaiting us.
When we get there,
is it the frozen imbalance,
the piece that allows us only to imagine,
stationery in our self driven despair.
I remember one time looking out my picture window
the rains were evident,
and they were all hiding behind themselves,
I didn’t go outside that day.
I wish I could know because even despite
the time I sit alone,
I realize this is right,
where I need to be right now,
while she is
in her own peace,
quiet in the mind,
yet radiant in her smile.
Wherever we might be,
there seems a reason.
my mother would reference this place,
a sort of mental ravine,
her heart might nearly stop,
eyes would glaze?
blood flow in her feigns might suddenly,
spill into one pool of spun lethargy.
This was not a place
she liked to be,
she’d often howl at the nature
of love and all it’s failings.
yet, she never discovered a solution?
only knew when inside?
not a lesser degree of pain
could ever exist.
where my mother was always never to pull the plug,
I might decide otherwise,
though my freedom would be sought?
there leaves a ring of memory,
clinging to everyone’s personal psyche.
Inside my surface, I’m afraid to go,
in there where passionate embrace
exists a monster of deceit,
part of me that always leaves me,
in cold sweats after a morning
waking in a nightmare,
not yet knowing,
I’m glad to be alive,
not where from I just came,
somehow I never let the truth reveal,
an internal pain,
this part of me that is real,
that though you think you know,
there isn’t possibly a way for them to ever understand
the real …
I know someone will say,
we all act that way,
each part of our humanity relates in the same way,
Is it true,
do you walk around thinking death out of the blue,
does your life seem to be that of a marionette doll,
the ugly sort,
not the painted elegance of a dream,
a nutcracker fantasy,
with a happy ending.
Instead does the wood seem hollow,
with a certain trip of the master’s control,
could the damage be,
the world might see.
settles my mind,
when I can know the feeling remains.
suggest an opportunity
the anxiety blows me,
that literal need is always knocking
when I’m alone,
when time stands still and hours fly by,
I wonder if anyone knew
would they …
is it me.
Am I the solution to my need,
seems to be a sort of shallow satisfaction,
yet when is it that
finds an eventual happy medium.
There’s a reason I haven’t sought out
I suppose it’s some moral conviction,
a desire to maintain my integrity
in the midst of a pool of wanton sensuality.
Find her at home,
is my friend’s lament,
I already know this,
I just wonder if she ever will.
I have been places,
dark, spooky, forbidden recesses
in my mind,
around the world
well beyond my own circle of deceit.
I know that love
can embrace the most painful
realities, no matter the circumstance,
and while life seemingly
travels forward, I wish for solace.
This isn’t for me though,
despite realizing everything
I am reaching out to accentuate
beauty without agenda.
I began this walk
with shallow waters to protect
my own innocence,
when slowly the current
brought me far beyond my comfort zone.
I began to wonder about yours,
did my words interfere
with your own, hopes and dreams.
I could wonder where you are today,
find relief in knowing safe
translates your state of mind,
but I will still wander with the memory,
of who I am, who I became, who I …
I am something of a societal flaw,
in this realm will my own conscience gnaw.
I wonder what words would define
that fear in my eyes,
hesitant, evasive, questionable
all the diction in my mind
in a moment, a sensual
appears before a hungry glance
didn’t know you,
yet would see you with every fantasy in my mind.
Clothed or sweet musings of
would my world be a sudden
with a similar reaction
to a brace of arctic breeze,
the feel good kind.
I might rather languish in sweet pool
when in a moment of freedom
you dance a dream
a passionate twirl of romantic nuance
breathe a slow gasp,
allow eyes to dive into seas spectacular
in passionate embrace.
I would speak of this,
of a certain desire,
inside a world sensuous,
a place where we all might find
to verse, to linger, to enhance
I don’t know where I’ve gone
instead of ravishing her to
a state of trembling fury …
the delightful kind,
where she lays on her side,
having sustained a certain
path of bewilderment,
with slow strokes of her hair,
she smiles knowingly,
suggestive of another moment,
just before this recent lament.
I wonder where I am, what I have become,
only to find I’m just not as happy as some.