this street of ticking gold
watches the winos pass
out like a light under
hazy lights breathing down
on a bed of asphalt and red confetti
for bed sheets.
said “it isn’t your fault
the celebration passes quickly.”
said “just be thankful for what’s left.”
this is all that’s left:
broken neck-
ties of jubilance,
a smirk, second
glance at the door I came in.
it’s cold out.
it’s cold out
there you know, and
though I’d rather not freeze,
if turning up the heat in here is going to cost
my heart
again,
I’d just as soon watch my breath
embrace me
like you used to.
fractal ice flakes spill down
as drips from an overturned bucket of
paint. colors of remarkable beauty.
and see, they never grow faint,
but see,
they never grow.
liberated, dissipated, and not
one
ever wasted.
each the only one of its kind.
they speak of your beauty,
but I see the “you” in me.
and as we are mutual beings,
we know, therefore
we see through.
we see.
see the truth…
…lonely.
I’ve lost the words to speak,
so I’m forced to resonate in refrains of silence.
ya see, I’m not mute.
just burned my tongue
on a tall cup of molten limestone and carbon
fuel
and poured it out
to fuel the smelting of the
INNER ME
from the
I AM,
and I AM no longer
ME.
gave my heart and voice up for some wings.
and hot second servings only cost a helping hand,
not a heart.
still, I think
I’ll pass.
if anyone needs a hand
now, it’s me.
can’t seem to get this moth-man mentality
out of my head,
and seeing around that
light is no easy task.
am I that oblivious to my dilemma magnetism,
or is this thing stalking me?
hope I figure it out soon,
because I have a splitting headache,
and my nose is pretty damn flat.
singed
wings or not, I can’t hold up
flying in these conditions for long.
too bad insight doesn’t come
too quickly
to us insects; we might have a thing
or two
to show the world.
seems that I held a
two-card hand there:
“metamorphosis”
and “shit-out-of-luck”.
doing my best to ignore these
flashing green and red
dots in my eyelids, I think
back to that vexed day.
there
I chose my revolution.
and yes, it did revolve.
spinning
like a little boy slingin’ his yo-yo-YOU
until the string snaps.
and no, no you can’t just wind it back up.
wind back up the silken string to
my karma
cocoon. and couldn’t move,
until now.
and now I reunite with what I lost,
grabbin’ his hand so he won’t be lost.
“look here, kid.
these wings are splendors
hidden pitfall.
We (you) were orphaned
there.
here’s some string…just,
please,
use it for your yo-yo.”
I’m pretty tired,
sitting here with you
all, my friends.
yes, sitting near, but
just sitting.
wish I could say nothing
warmed my heart more,
but I’m torn.
I could be flyin’, but the sky isn’t my home.
sure as the sun,
my blood still pumps love
for you…
...just not as well as it used to.
had a stroke (of bad luck),
and could use a (time) bypass,
cause my heart is in the past.
and your look says this isn’t my home either.
driving home doesn’t
fare well
though, cause my windows are fogged,
and I can’t see for anything.
swerved to miss our car wreck, and almost did.
and here I go again with the revolution.
spinning slow, out of control.
criminal, cause I break the laws,
even gravity.
not proud of these wings, so
I keep them folded.
screamed our names but choked on silence.
so twisted metal speaks for me.
this street of ticking gold
watches life shift like a street
light in the wind,
winds that used to carry me to wherever I chose,
but I’m lost again.
in a maze of warped wheels and headlights
breathing down on a bed of asphalt and red
confetti.
if I could speak,
I would only implore you grab the paddles
and revive the worm
I was…this flying gig is
old now,
and I miss you (I miss us) dearly.
plus, I think there’s a time limit,
so wasting it here in silence
seems a bit too sick
a joke, even for me.
let’s go back.
no more feelings of
left-out
or
lonely.
I’ll show you how I fall
like fractal ice flakes
as drips from
my (spilled bucket of paint) heart.
and it’s all for you.
let’s go back.
