I put myself in this stairwell,
No shoes, no skin, no fears, no heat.
I am as cold as you made me.
“Chill of circumstance”, you say.
“Under the same sun”, I say.
Bold as I am, yes.
Cold as I am, yes.
No courage to walk away.
I wish for heat, no.
I wish to flee, no.
I am bound by the passim of your touch.
It scatters warmth.
Just to keep me alive.
Not enough to rouse me from this comatose.
This empty longing,
Just enough to make me think…
You’re the reason I’m breathing.
Presence is a fickle thing,
We can doubt and prod our existence,
We can feel like currency,
We can feel like our soul is but a thread,
And the scissors are in hands of everyone but you.
The hope can run out.
You can hide from the past,
You can hide from today,
You can be blind to the future,
And the clock still ticks and the change will consume you.
In a second, that itch you scratch,
Bores a hole so deep,
All that you hid from is before your eye and gnaws at your heart.
Who you are is becoming.
I was an influence,
I am a presence,
I will be cherished.
No more excuses to be under this rock.
To be remembered,
To be unknown, yet to be honored,
To be an object of foresight.
To be a case,
To be a goal,
To be a namesake.
writings mean quite a deal when we’ve got something to lose.
they can anchor,
and lift us higher.
on this day that the world should end,
all i see is the frenzy;
and altogether typical.
the blessing on this day that the world should end,
the dressing of this day is;
is in it’s satin,
is in it’s silks,
it’s milky tone,
it’s boldness in cold,
it’s warmth in sight,
these blessing are the snow flurries that are reigning in the night.
i’ve been calm and unnerved.
i’ve been pull under and through.
i’ve held the corse and slightest touch.
i’ve held the simple and everlasting joy.
i’ve never been caught by the mornings first breathe.
i’ve never been chosen outside of arrest.
i’ve never held hair spun of gold.
i’ve never held a heart not jealous.
i can be rattled when my skin is in the game.
i can be rattled when my kin is in the game.
i will wield potential like its mighty.
i will wield compassion to a like soul.
i cannot be dismayed by whispers of lies.
i cannot be conquered by wiles with no heart.
i will not be disingenuous with my time at your expense.
i will not be torn down or dismantled by egos of any stripe.
but i will fold like scented paper at the mention of any fashion of attraction.
it can be time travel
to be in your glances.
i see the many things that can,
should and would be.
i clutch them weary of the misery
and the torrent bound to unfold,
as i try to convince you
of all the could be.
we could be two kids
in the hall,
singing a hearty tune
echoing quite nicely.
i could be just as you
with books across my walls,
and everything where it ought to be.
the matter at hand,
makes us both tremble.
for any dreams to be seen,
in your wishes i’ll have to be.