The winds are bringing change carrying dust of decaying structures. Dust that could blind those entranced in the past. Lessons learned face turned to the verdant plain where new plans will be lain. Potential to fill a spiritual abyss we can be an oasis within a desert of complacency that, as rain drops, we are changing to a sea of morality. Education, work, faith endowed with a sense of mission from a vision. We make revisions to the world with each decision leading to serve.
Getting dressed slowly she stretches like a lioness with no reservations. My body on vacation I admire the view that recently was stormy weather. She slips into jeans then crawls between me and sheets pawing like a kitten with the smile of a raccoon as she looked up from the dark of covers. I could tell from the way she lied when talking to since she nuzzled against my breast demanding a caress that fabric ruined. “Let’s go out,” she purred. My eyes shifted to the raining outside. She was the sad ghost of a woman wanting to swim in the same lake she drowned.
I smoke to get high I drink for the taste and when my taste gives out I drink till pass out. Cause I want to be rid of my sense …but can’t wait for them to return. Alcohol is poison, but I’m trying to kill the depression that resides inside of me. The drinking, the getting drunk, the waking and sobering up are as close to me as the little things like my rapping a past that sober me would never mention. Or trying to kiss girls that I had made as friends. Perhaps for that reason. It’s the experiences between us that made me trust you. …Maybe that is how I will die. Vomiting and shivering. I should have started to stop at 7. But that was blasphemy although 13 was bad luck. In cloudy retrospect I can’t remember where I stopped though I began when I started to think. …I don’t know how to stop that. Not on my own yet. In truth… This is more than the drinking. This is more than getting drunk. This is more than the waking and sobering up. This is a battle to keep your memories while still trying to forget you. I’m an imaginary friend. Nephew. Student. Person. I’m sorry for the lack of visits. Conversations. Moments. Together. They were few. You were leaving. I couldn’t stop my life for that could I? Should I? For but a mere day… why didn’t I?
Tell me the size of your eyes. I want to devise a way to get inside your mind. Tell me what will I find? You and I two of a kind both blind. Me in one way. You on Sundays though we were still learning. So redux Another redo. This is everything we’ve already been through. Walking in a land under. Thinking of this makes me wonder. This is reality torn asunder. If it made sense It was me pretending. Like a cheshire cat Your darkness is grinning. Off with my head to get ahead. No sorrow or lust you felt nothing instead. I was wedded to you in my head so i dreaded this. I did not expect it. These changing signals made me feel epileptic. This is a minor stroke but if I take a toke I can cloud my mind in a cloak. Then dream and pretend. This is not as it seems. Or the end. It’s a testament. To me, myself, and my memories that I cannot get sentiments imprinted on the grey of my mind.
Look at this flower and its beauty. What has it done to deserve the title? Should the thorn make me yearn for it more for I now love it less. I must confess I cannot stand the uniformity of belief without seeing what lies beneath. Though it warms everyone I do not admire the radiance of the sun, diamonds in eyes, silky black threads that scatter as one lives under white clouds from skies in a bed. Why is this flower so called only known for its beauty and that is all. But what is the reason? Our minds committed treason and we subscribed to thoughts that aren’t justified. Perhaps on the inside the beauty is all the same though its sad that we concentrate on a name flower, beauty, nouns bringing ideas that few care to examine or critique. But if each flower is described as beautiful is any flower unique?