Rats

Grabbing onto anchors
In a vie to save a ship
So at the cost of holding something
Do we numb our fingetips

Listening to silence
Just to say we really hear
So at the cost of disappearing
Do we save what isn’t dear

Dancing in the shadows
As a way to spite the sun
So at the cost of seeing nothing
Do we hide what we’ve become

Letting go of reason
And of logic like they’re hats
So at the cost of feeding pigeons
Are we slowly breeding rats

Endeavor

Organization, it founders and fails
And the chaos that crosses it quickly prevails

I wrap a condition
A rule arbitrary
Around an ambition
I’m too weak to carry

Plotting and planning, the passage is frail
And this boat of intention has nets for a sail

My logic compiled
Around an objective
I waste like a child
Then deem ineffective

Method to madness, illusive control
Over fictional boundaries, a loop for a hole

I build up a meaning
From new aspirations
At angles, and leaning
On fractured foundations

Belief in believing in orderly change
When I decorate shackles and show off the chains

I set a desire
Outside of my grasp
And then set it on fire
And still, try to ask

How is it that every new hopeful endeavor
Keeps falling apart like the last?

Hours

So whether with a smile,
Word, or song, or blade stiletto
They’re just different names for strings
And you, my dear, are still Geppetto

And I, to them beholden
Saying all your lead is golden
Wait with sadly bated breath to see how long until I fold in

And underneath the ire
Where your grin is like a dagger
And the wounds cause me to sing
Your name in pain and slowly stagger

Behind you ever spouting
Words of praise and never doubting
That the whispers of remembrance justify my lonely shouting

And withering in lapses
Do I clutch to the betraying
And from comets do I swing
To disregard the words you’re saying

Collecting, as if flowers,
Thoughts of love where loving cowers
Holding seconds in a shrine within a prison where the bricks are made of hours

Sconce

How often have I heard you yelling
Talking of the sanctity of life
Standing on a box you made of soap because you’re telling
Everyone of the atrocities within the world that seem so very rife

The horrors and the sad conditions
Unforgivable in all their woe
Pointing to the ones who were the victims of afflictions
In a world where most would rather turn away than really see the truth below

How often did I see you waving
Banners for the ones so cast aside?
Heralding compassion for the souls we weren’t saving
And reminding everybody to remember all the ones who cruelly died?

But now, you seem so very quiet
Taking time to weigh your thin response
Holding reticence as if a virtue – I don’t buy it –
When you claim to carry pyres on your back but now you fold beneath a sconce

Wake

What do we call the hurt
That now exists instead of pain?
For all the woe it might have caused before
And even as we sought a way to close it like a door
The absence is a wound that we would offer blood to see it not remain

What do we call this thing
That now replaces all the tears
We shed for all the cuts that we endured
And every one we dreaded, and we fought, and we obscured
How is it their removal ushered nothing into life deserving cheers?

What do we call the grief
That died a slow and somber death?
When all it ever did was weigh us down
And sing to us an ocean made of promises to drown
We feel it missing now and seem to struggle all the more to take a breath

What do we call this want
That only ever seemed to take
And made us always wonder why we did
When following, it seemed a hell, we found ourselves amid
How is it, as the fire died
And gone were all the tears we cried
We felt like we were rushing toward a dream, so undeserved, we had to wake?

 

Honestly

I care so very little
If you’re strong of if you’re brittle
If you’re stoic and you’re brave
Or you’re a coward and a knave
Or if you’re proud of anything you’ve said or done

Of times where you’re the winner
Or the ones where you’re the sinner
Any moment that you caved
Or any life you may have saved
And if to any other life you seem a sun

I couldn’t care the slightest
If you’re dim or you’re the brightest
If you only mean the best
Or mean the worst, or you’re obsessed
Or if you’re certain that you’re second best to none

What matters are your actions
Your affiliated factions
If you mean the things you say
Or if they’re words that you betray
And if they are, then, honestly, the fucks I have to give for you are less than one

Loss

I wonder how long I’ll be looking
And wandering, waiting around
I don’t know how long I’ve been yelling your name
And staring at faces that don’t even see me
Let alone care that I’m making a sound

I’m telling myself you’re the victim
Your halo got lost in the crowd
You had a good reason, it wasn’t your fault,
And all of the pain was a symptom of longing
That you, in reticence, simply allowed

I know that you’re quietly walking
Around all the edges I see
Leaving goodbye on the fog rolling in
Like pictures that only exist in the evening
Hidden like futures in cups of our tea

I’m telling myself you’re forgiven
My sorrow was never your cross
And turning your words into hammers and nails
Does nothing but double the pain and I’m tired
Tired of blaming you, tired of you blaming me, and I’m tired of weighing your meaning in loss

Organization

If I can keep the pattern synergistic
All the lines in tact
The spiral magnified so that I’m miles from the bottom
Then the bottom doesn’t have to be a fact

If I can keep the lines from blurring so
They never seem to meet
The squares correctly labeled with identifying digits
Then it all becomes a puzzle to complete

If I can keep the circles apocentric
Hard to clearly view
So that you see the red in the trajectory of passage
Then you’ll never even guess they’re always blue

If I can keep the grid from overlapping
All the cells in line
All the rows and columns organized and calculated
I can organize the chaos and convince myself that everything is fine

Led

I’m waiting at the table you reserved
And folding you a paper rose
It’s more than you deserve
I see the sign is turned to close
…With lost nerve

My offerings are burning in your stead
I’m tracing arrows near the sores
And dimming shades of red
If all these faded words are yours
…Your heart’s lead

I’m standing at the station where you were
A ticket back to yesterday
I bought when I was sure
I’d never see you there and say
…You’re not her

My eyelids never let me look ahead
I’m waiting like I always planned
To meet you where I said
“I followed and I followed and
…Your heart led”

Glamour

How is it I remember what we never really were
But never can recall what we became?
And painting all the carnage in the red you never wore
So that your lips are always smiling in the memories that tell me I’m to blame

I lace the time around all the tomorrows that I burned
And tell the dead today that they’ll be real
Like pennies long forgotten in a fountain that was formed
Upon the fallacy that words could ever save us from the freedom of our will

How can I place the flowers that I purchased on a grave
I see as but a dream that never was?
And plucking all the petals of “she loves me” in a grove
Until the petals of “she loves me not” are just another way to say she does

I scatter them about like they were ashes in the wind
And see them as the seeds desire grew
And holding to the stars as if the moon have never waned
I rest my head upon our grave and say, “I’d do it all again to be with you…”