Beautiful disguise

Because

this is your sickness

infecting my awareness

triumph is for dreamers

I cannot sleep another second

Losing faith

“I want a divorce.”

 Jonah looked up from the sports page.

“It’s obvious this marriage isn’t working,” Debbie said.  She had that pinched look on her face, the kind she wore whenever she knew she’d spent far too much for some article of clothing but was prepared to defend it to the death.  “I’ve tried everything I can to make you interested in me, and you never will be.  You just want to live in your own little world.  Well, there’s no place for me there, so I’m leaving.  I hope you won’t make it ugly.”

Jonah stared at her. 

Debbie stood up.  “And once again you have nothing to say.  I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

If you run away

did you run away

I will not rejoice at your

falling

run away again

your life is your prison

The Unknowing

I was one fear closer to here

lost in a night too dark for sleeping

was it me on the ledge        or was it you

whispering

                                                               

                                                                 

                                do not give up too soon

do not give up

too soon                                                                                                                                                                                           

when I am breaking           

I am a fool

where do I stand

I am a piece of stone mixed in

with all this sand

                                                               

yet full of proof

of what died         with you

                               

                why did you bring me here to my cyclone second

when rage engulfs this bridge from earth to heaven                    

cinder through and through                                                                                                                                                                                           

you ask too much                               you do

                                                               

                                               

for one whisper like the hint of water splashed on embers

for one storybook of dreams with its message tethered 

to the fading metal moon             

the sun  it can  be cruel

now that I gave too much                 too soon                                                                                               

                                                                               

                                                Is this your plan  

               

is this your one    

your great             

your smoky last demand  

or

my intention

my blue-flame doom

because

burned across my heart your forgotten message

the language lost in time with the words rewritten

resuscitate the girl she is out of breathing

collapsed under the hope she could not believe in

the soot was in her eyes she could only cry

was this my one great truth

did I give up

                too soon?

                

The disappearing path

April 28, 2013

I don’t really get what’s going on.  This is all pretty weird.  I wish I could just settle on being crazy.  It’s my insistence on sanity that’s the problem.  Woo hoo, who cares what the truth is, because look at me, I’m Princess Leia!  Sadly, I just can’t pull it off.  So I’m stuck in half-crazy, half-sane limbo land where I’m not sure which part of what I say is nuts and which isn’t, if any of it is either.  If that makes sense.  Which I don’t think it does.

Impossibililty

when white roses on the table

give clue to the ending

whatever message God meant to send

this girl is not receiving

with no world left to live in                she is lost in the ether

gently floats past         my outstretched fingers

but as the earth swallows me whole

pulls me into never      what I could not control

this one thing I know

this one thing I know

Confession

I see a man
at the top of a hill underneath a tree
I turn to face him
we stand there for a while
the grass is green from the rain
he does not know my name
I turn to him
I open my mouth and nothing gags
he listens
I turn to run I run run run
down the hill my arms stretched wide
I dive between the tall grass
the grass is tall from the rain
he calls for the daydreamer but I am gone
I am back laying in my bed
hating myself for the telling
it is too late
he does not know my name but he knows
there is no turning back

Unafraid

Her glassy eyes drove me mad.  In a fit of rage, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.  She said something in that dull, mechanical voice of hers as I slapped her down on the counter, but I refused to listen.  Instead I raised the knife high in the air and became a human guillotine as the knife crashed down across her neck. 

Her round plastic head jerked back, separated from its body.  It balanced on the edge of the counter for a long second.  She had time to cast me  one last glassy-eyed look before her head hit the floor.  It seemed to roll forever, until it came to rest underneath the sink.

 I laid the knife down on the counter.  With some uncertainty, I pushed my fist into her dolly stomach, but nothing happened.  She was silent at last.

I had killed it.  I had killed the doll.

Because reality is the toe breaker

is the dance

is the false teeth sitting

innocent in the glass