windowboxes
I wanted something vilified
everything crisp come to a halt
the end of the things we took for granted
criminal
possession nine tenths of an inch squared off to meet me solo, a back flip, you wanted the difference, watered it down and let it simmer. Let all tides meet the shore accordingly, spiteful to moon-pull receding backwards in time to an ocean of memories, legitimized, a tantrum. You took off your wedding ring, I see, and hide your hand in your pocket aware of its tan line, a waste, an apology given in jest. The end the end could not could not come quickly enough.
Calm blue ocean, el mar, el rio, la playa, the masculine, the feminine so mystified. All which came to be from a single crumb, a loosely laid out map of atoms, the love of the world so irrational and yet too possibly the most natural feeling for any of us, that which gives us life, the feeding, the nourishment. And taken from that the destructive nature in all of us, the will to eradicate one another in the cruelest ways possible, the willful defiance of that which keeps us whole.
Take it all down, down down in that notebook, reminiscing in hallways feet bare pressed up against the wainscotting, asleep in one ear awake in one eye, alive to the breathing of spiders not four feet away. Little eyes hands scritch scratching down everything the eye has willed to see, cold ass on this tile, spread legged, let it be be let it be.
You remember the alleyway. The salt stains on boot heels, the crisp breath coming forth to color the wind, enough to linger, awake and loving the smell of winter in the city, climbing stairs to reach heaven somwhere on rooftops, pen in twisting fingers, smiling savoring simply being. You were a monument, cold and stony, a hairsbreadth away from being truly insane. And I wore that badge like an honor. Cupped it quiet and long in trembling, gentle fingers. Allowed myself to really look at the thing, the whole thing, the picture so panoramic a single lens would shatter if it tried to encompass all of it at once. I allowed myself to be in love with this thing so harsh and so delicate, so willing to compromise my life at any second. These windowboxes, these rhythms of celestial pull, the world so homey so terribly malignant. Alone, I called out to the Universe in childish fashion. I’d asked it to befriend me.
One look in the eye for inspiration, diluted circles of wisdom radiating beneath hooded brows. A simplified gesture, swaying back and forth on wooden ankles, sheepish and looking forward to the night. A happenstance revival, a meeting of soul body tear shed, an embrace more for loneliness’ sake than evaluation of the human heart. A muscle spasm, wrenching forth every possible outcome, the could have beens, the should haves, what were moments of bliss so serene they required no words to fulfill them. And desertation became the only possible outcome.
everything crisp come to a halt
the end of the things we took for granted
criminal
possession nine tenths of an inch squared off to meet me solo, a back flip, you wanted the difference, watered it down and let it simmer. Let all tides meet the shore accordingly, spiteful to moon-pull receding backwards in time to an ocean of memories, legitimized, a tantrum. You took off your wedding ring, I see, and hide your hand in your pocket aware of its tan line, a waste, an apology given in jest. The end the end could not could not come quickly enough.
Calm blue ocean, el mar, el rio, la playa, the masculine, the feminine so mystified. All which came to be from a single crumb, a loosely laid out map of atoms, the love of the world so irrational and yet too possibly the most natural feeling for any of us, that which gives us life, the feeding, the nourishment. And taken from that the destructive nature in all of us, the will to eradicate one another in the cruelest ways possible, the willful defiance of that which keeps us whole.
Take it all down, down down in that notebook, reminiscing in hallways feet bare pressed up against the wainscotting, asleep in one ear awake in one eye, alive to the breathing of spiders not four feet away. Little eyes hands scritch scratching down everything the eye has willed to see, cold ass on this tile, spread legged, let it be be let it be.
You remember the alleyway. The salt stains on boot heels, the crisp breath coming forth to color the wind, enough to linger, awake and loving the smell of winter in the city, climbing stairs to reach heaven somwhere on rooftops, pen in twisting fingers, smiling savoring simply being. You were a monument, cold and stony, a hairsbreadth away from being truly insane. And I wore that badge like an honor. Cupped it quiet and long in trembling, gentle fingers. Allowed myself to really look at the thing, the whole thing, the picture so panoramic a single lens would shatter if it tried to encompass all of it at once. I allowed myself to be in love with this thing so harsh and so delicate, so willing to compromise my life at any second. These windowboxes, these rhythms of celestial pull, the world so homey so terribly malignant. Alone, I called out to the Universe in childish fashion. I’d asked it to befriend me.
One look in the eye for inspiration, diluted circles of wisdom radiating beneath hooded brows. A simplified gesture, swaying back and forth on wooden ankles, sheepish and looking forward to the night. A happenstance revival, a meeting of soul body tear shed, an embrace more for loneliness’ sake than evaluation of the human heart. A muscle spasm, wrenching forth every possible outcome, the could have beens, the should haves, what were moments of bliss so serene they required no words to fulfill them. And desertation became the only possible outcome.