Homebound

Forlorn in a space

people all 'round
no idioms on your tongue
and loneliness remains
idioms on your tongue
and loneliness still
it's home my head
now moved back
setting in for comfort
pollution again
poison riddled in the nervous
the missing cure
afraid to return and discover
same love
unchanged by the events
I poured my heart
no blood left
and received sameness
hollow heart crumbles
perhaps this is truth
I know what lies ahead.

Strings

Baby, somethin's got a hold
I'm astray
lost in suspended animation
I've misplaced my strings
and memory serves no aid
this wooden body
sways on its own
I own tears
but marionettes don't lament

Tunnels

Sometimes I envision myself in another's shoes, just someone walking down the street or someone working behind a counter trying to make a living. I pretend to watch things from their point of view, like jumping behind their eyes. I imagine myself living their story. And I haven't figured out yet if it's curiosity or envy. This had a point somewhere.

Not Nevermore

Gaze through crystals
Flashes of green
passing in this sullen ride
Plastic eyes
not mine but another's
Separation
Frost grows on joy
but not nevermore
Mind weary from plight
Climbing up into the rocks
to the destination
Body:
You're here but your spirit is not
You left it behind in the creases
of his hands
Heart with stones
smooth and piled high
fills to throat
I stopped breathing after the leave
Recoiled back to shade
Body animated by demons
until we meet again

A Brief Explanation of the Puzzle that is My Mind

You're a bit oblivious but it's okay. Everyone unfortunately is but I feel as though I'm the only one who isn't. Because when I see something I see all of it for what it is. I observe the things that aren't typically blatantly shown. Most people live only viewing the surface. Every action or word, the various ways things can be said, subtle body language- are all caught by the few analysts like myself. And when we've reached a hypothesis about the actual feelings you possess we assume that it is truth. In this world of simple people it is difficult for us to relate to others because of this strange and sometimes absurd way of thinking. It explains my heavy mind overflowing with thoughts, my quick mood changes that change with each thought that changes. And sometimes we use this thought process too much and over think things. And it often causes misunderstandings between people when really us analysts are only trying to understand. So I write this explanation of the strange way that I think in hopes that you will understand that when I mumble confusing sentences that make no sense that you may have the patience to let me figure out my puzzling thoughts. And that you may in turn assist me in figuring out my jumbled mind.

Only Clay

Walking deviant steps heavy. Her knees dirty from prayer. She longingly calls for her soul's return but the response is never given. So she shuffles and stumbles over endless dirt searching for the soul of hers she won't find. That pure and spirited energy that will revive her clay molded shell, her disintegrating bones. And so it be this cycle for however long it may take to find herself lost so long ago in this world. Given a journey taken alone quick as frost. Visionless to the helping hand which had walked alongside at the start. Blind, but beginning to see the aid.

Splitting of the Tide

There is a point at which vast blueness, churning and spewing salt, collides with ground and makes it shudder from its blow. Ground recoils only for the next lash of azure, only for separation to occur once again. It is easy to guess that this perpetual cycle of fellowship and separation between ocean and land has been occurring for centuries and probably will be occurring for centuries more. It is also easy to observe how these simple actions of nature are related to people. Though as a society we are all seemingly united, we actually stand alone. Stereotypes, beauty, racism, wealth, personality, greed: these and more are all the commonplace things that keep ourselves apart from one another. The typical saying "every man for himself" is undoubtedly applied in our society and sometimes even inside our homes. It is never a simple task nowadays to exchange words with someone without being judged or criticized, or to perhaps create new relationships or for once exercise trust with another. Trust doesn't even exist between strangers because strangers have taken it upon themselves to ruin this lost characteristic. We are all at fault because we are all strangers alike. And if the common idea is to be judgmental upon meeting anyone, that's all we'll ever be is strangers.

Fine Lines

Observation: Only man too preoccupied with the trivial aspects of life are too blind to see that our world is made up of much more than just stone and wood. We live in invisible lines that cross and twist through our homes, our streets, our bodies. They are constant and flowing with energy- it doesn't matter whether you're a murderer or teacher, every single conscious person has them. And they can be very sensitive to the actions and choices that a person makes.

Each line forms off my person and links to the general areas of my life. I am a pillar with boundless energy feeding these precious lines. Recent events have caused turbulence in this constant state of flow, weakening the core and thus weakening the lines to frailty. Some now temporarily lay in shambles within the dull areas crowded with cobwebs in my mind. I witness the fall but am ongoing; snow blind. I see through grain, eyes heavy and gray. I imagine myself walking through a murky plain with lines all around. Some glow brightly like fireflies while others are at the end of their wick. Some already fallen to dust. At this point in my life I worry most that the events which affect me affect the familiar line of love I currently search for. I am an often visitor only because I wish to see if it is still strong. When I find it I reach out to touch it's warmth. Still connected and flowing but I tell myself that the line is damaged. I tell myself all the time that there is a piece in the line that is missing. It isn't enough to see the line surviving on it's own. Outside my head I try to find ways of fixing what isn't broken. And when I can't make repairs I slide back into grief and confusion once again. I need something to prove that it's the same. Actions unfortunately speak louder than words.

Out of Body

We are gathered around the familiar rectangular table with the same dice for the 800th time. We sit here mimicking every other weekend. I'm feeling no different than I did without the liquid chemicals that dull the mind. It's strange this time. I still feel the gross agitation, irritation, distance. Everyone around this table is tipsy and loud and social. I'm the same and don't want to be. I'm out of place here, just like everywhere else. I feel the numb but nothing has changed about myself. I wonder to myself in this stupid form where my old self has gone. I search my mind for where I have locked it away and find nothing. I am like Peter Pan, searching for my silhouette. It's the most important part of you you shouldn't lose. But it's gone now in the pool of emptiness that every person contributes to. It's possible that I'm becoming something I've always detested. Stress has turned me into a bitter adult and not even mead can bring that happy, carefree spirit back. I'm afraid because this has never happened before. Even if something had been bothering me, mead always had it's way of turning it into something to muse at or completely ignore. I want so much to be part of this loud gathering but I feel excluded. It's my fault because I'm prohibiting inclusion- mentally and physically. I am my own witness at this act and I can't stop myself. An out of body experience. I want to tell that person I watch from the atmosphere to stop being so foolish. I scream at her silently to return to her old self but she doesn't hear me. If I refuse to listen to myself than who can I listen to?

Penniless

Shunned the corporate giant.
Battered and penniless.
Searching for something new.

A Different Life

As much as I wanted the shower to finally smell normal again, I really didn't want to leave the wilderness. I had begun to form a bond with its ways and it pains me now to return back to a life shortened by stress. It's a fake reality we live in unfortunately. We all were tricked into being weaned on this sort of life that just doesn't make sense. Obligations, responsibility, decisions, money- all these things are actually pointless choices. You should be able to feel constantly at ease in life and I'm afraid that just isn't possible with all these empty words hovering in the atmosphere. Everyone should try living in the wild at least once to know what I'm talking about. Because the wild, when properly prepared for it, is a forgiving and cleansing thing. Once you spend a few days out there you begin to hear it breathe and speak as you do. It's a very interesting experience. I long to return there, now as we rubber tramp our way home, to regain the piece of me that was forcefully left behind. The missing piece of me that will forever stay locked within the wooden confines of the wild.

 

Bullets & Headlights

I am one of many. The two-legs believe that the numbers of our kind should be controlled so that we don't overpopulate the land they believe is rightfully theirs. Laws have been implemented to control our increasing numbers. The two-legs come at a specific season, stalking us with their shiny machines. We're just a waste of space- or perhaps tasty meals for their greedy bellies. Some of us are lucky though. A common death among my species is not only by a bullet but also surprisingly by a pair of headlights. I say that they are lucky only because they don't have to fear being hunted any longer. Their end is usually swift if they collide at the right point of their body. I know a few who have purposefully chose this as their end. Like little insects to a bug zapper. Only they sorrowfully know what to expect. I weep for my kind because we are always thought of inconsiderably. We are insignificant. They don't understand the fear we feel hiding with our young, always keeping our ears to the skies. We used to roam free without worry. I suppose times have changed and this is the life we must live now. Priorities first, right? I guess we fall very low on their list.