[The World is Flat].
Chasing miles of disappointment
through the rivers under my painted skin.
The debris all emptying out in that
same spot beneath my chest.
My timorous ways,
I have under control tonight.
The smile, laid flat across my face
has been carefully stitched on
and forcefully I cock my head
a bit to the side
Just so the crookedness of my tall tales
are beaten deep below the surface.
Like that fence post in my backyard
that you use to hop over
every morning at the first sight of dawn.
The secrets you carry around
are on the verge of causing your
knees to buckle
As always, I can see right through you.
We all just want something tangible.
An honest discourse,
anyone will do,
But we all know your profession
calls for nothing of the like.
I caught myself through the
reflection on the pavement,
last night, watching you.
The pavement, a mirror,
of everything that was lost.
And the light bounces off
the only spot I can seem to look at now,
straight into your feverish eyes.
For a brief moment your mask is
stripped away and you stand
disrobed
As that heart of yours races beneath it.
Breaking again. We both fall.
Time has given us the advantage
of disguising ourselves.
And we stand as strangers,
Near to that afternoon
you followed me to the sidewalk
to watch me choke on that cigarette.
It startles me, even now,
to watch time enfold in circular waves
Like the earth we wander along
These lives we lead are not linear.
As much as we strive,
we will not be able to sail off the edge.
Much the same as the
Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria
Nothing new, discovered.
The same motions,
we played them before
circles upon circles
Drawn over these same sights.
Words do not exist.
The story of my life, now drawn
out with that old spirograph
I still cling onto.
The temperature must have dropped
at least ten degrees
And what has seemed hours,
were mere minutes
Mere minutes of perfection,
of beautiful deep mahogany spirographs.
Pirouetting and revolving
through space, through beats and felicity.
All emerging for one single,
brilliant, agonizing moment.
Where every image surrounding me is
engulfing itself for the pyrotechnic event
of the century.
With that same breath,
I watch your back walk away from me,
the sweet breeze lingering
across your bare crown
As your shoulders lead the way
for your limbs and feet.
The volume is much too loud
and I can hear you try to convince yourself
of all things you sill think I am.
Your judgments roll off my tongue
And it's nothing I haven't heard
And it's nothing you believe.
Remarking on the silly ways you
still try to keep track.
My eyes wonder to the voices next to me.
Looking around, reticent
I can still sense my own
shame
More eyes are on me now.
Multiplying like roaches from
the gutter underneath my tattered heels.
Smiles of pity, a nudge or two follow,
Like biting into that pepper
and that feeling of every second
your mouth escalating with fiery fervor.
All of it being just my imagination.
I wonder how many of these
here, even know...
That the fish, caught,
has just finally been pulled off the hook.
Once again, laughter fills the air
And my eyes glow with anticipation.
My muscles release as
pleasure fills my body
Namely that of new spun rain
in the drought of mid-july.
The music resonates through my bones
The urge to throw my arms into oblivion
and shake my penetrating hips
Over powers every beat my heart has skipped.
Mattering, only now, the conversations
that take my breath away
And watching the sun rise
on top of that dirty parking garage.
Gazing at the horizon,
beyond the ghostly skyline,
watching the world drop.
The stories I make of strangers
from a distance, veiled,
Trumps anything in reality.
Another stranger, life, I watch.
through the rivers under my painted skin.
The debris all emptying out in that
same spot beneath my chest.
My timorous ways,
I have under control tonight.
The smile, laid flat across my face
has been carefully stitched on
and forcefully I cock my head
a bit to the side
Just so the crookedness of my tall tales
are beaten deep below the surface.
Like that fence post in my backyard
that you use to hop over
every morning at the first sight of dawn.
The secrets you carry around
are on the verge of causing your
knees to buckle
As always, I can see right through you.
We all just want something tangible.
An honest discourse,
anyone will do,
But we all know your profession
calls for nothing of the like.
I caught myself through the
reflection on the pavement,
last night, watching you.
The pavement, a mirror,
of everything that was lost.
And the light bounces off
the only spot I can seem to look at now,
straight into your feverish eyes.
For a brief moment your mask is
stripped away and you stand
disrobed
As that heart of yours races beneath it.
Breaking again. We both fall.
Time has given us the advantage
of disguising ourselves.
And we stand as strangers,
Near to that afternoon
you followed me to the sidewalk
to watch me choke on that cigarette.
It startles me, even now,
to watch time enfold in circular waves
Like the earth we wander along
These lives we lead are not linear.
As much as we strive,
we will not be able to sail off the edge.
Much the same as the
Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria
Nothing new, discovered.
The same motions,
we played them before
circles upon circles
Drawn over these same sights.
Words do not exist.
The story of my life, now drawn
out with that old spirograph
I still cling onto.
The temperature must have dropped
at least ten degrees
And what has seemed hours,
were mere minutes
Mere minutes of perfection,
of beautiful deep mahogany spirographs.
Pirouetting and revolving
through space, through beats and felicity.
All emerging for one single,
brilliant, agonizing moment.
Where every image surrounding me is
engulfing itself for the pyrotechnic event
of the century.
With that same breath,
I watch your back walk away from me,
the sweet breeze lingering
across your bare crown
As your shoulders lead the way
for your limbs and feet.
The volume is much too loud
and I can hear you try to convince yourself
of all things you sill think I am.
Your judgments roll off my tongue
And it's nothing I haven't heard
And it's nothing you believe.
Remarking on the silly ways you
still try to keep track.
My eyes wonder to the voices next to me.
Looking around, reticent
I can still sense my own
shame
More eyes are on me now.
Multiplying like roaches from
the gutter underneath my tattered heels.
Smiles of pity, a nudge or two follow,
Like biting into that pepper
and that feeling of every second
your mouth escalating with fiery fervor.
All of it being just my imagination.
I wonder how many of these
here, even know...
That the fish, caught,
has just finally been pulled off the hook.
Once again, laughter fills the air
And my eyes glow with anticipation.
My muscles release as
pleasure fills my body
Namely that of new spun rain
in the drought of mid-july.
The music resonates through my bones
The urge to throw my arms into oblivion
and shake my penetrating hips
Over powers every beat my heart has skipped.
Mattering, only now, the conversations
that take my breath away
And watching the sun rise
on top of that dirty parking garage.
Gazing at the horizon,
beyond the ghostly skyline,
watching the world drop.
The stories I make of strangers
from a distance, veiled,
Trumps anything in reality.
Another stranger, life, I watch.