Conflicted

I am something unexpected,
Though unremarkable at first glance.
I seem straightforward,
But under the skin
I am a tangled mess of
Unanswered questions, of
s-stutters… and pauses,
of disasemblement and disseparation,
of words made up and mispronounced.
I am obviously subtle,
Obliviously aware.
I am intelligent, but not smart.
I am always backwards in coming forwards
When I start at the beginning,
Reveling in my organized disarray.
I am full of contradictions,
Both straightforward
And unexpected.

Truth Later

Born lying,
my body betrays me
before I get a chance
to say what I mean.
That person in the mirror
is not right,
not what I should see,
not what I want to see.
I change my appearance
to love the way I look,
but must punish
my lying, deceitful body
in order to tell the truth.
I must inhale…
and exhale…
in order to continue.
But my truths,
they leave me breathless,
my ribs aching and complaining.
To live, I discover,
I must continue to lie…
But only for a little while.
I do not wish
to lie forever.

Searching For A Metaphor

Like a whipped dog,
I sit in the glow
of the radiance you emit,
but on the dark side
of the sliding glass door.

Like an astronomer,
I watch and record
the celestial movements of your smile,
unable to do anything
but admire you
from my stony seat.

Like a frustrated composer,
I reach and extend
for the precise notes
that fall from you lips,
tearing my hair
when I fall flat.

Like a stranded dreamer,
I reach for you,
but you’re a door too far
and an ocean away
and across a depthless abyss
all at the same time.

Never 'We'

Thank you.
I had been dormant, till then
Sleeping awake
But that one, brief moment,
Spark,
Shudder
Woke me up and I like you.
You are what I like.
And I cannot change that –
You are, I liked, before there was a ‘we’.
There is no ‘we’, though.
Never a ‘we’,
A ‘we’ would be... unexpected… unreal.

But that moment…
I would have been happier asleep.
I would not be thinking of ‘we’
And would just be continuing as you and I were.

But, awake I am
And now I stop
Another moment to wonder –
I like you.
You are what I like.
You are, I liked, before there was a ‘we’.
There is no ‘we’, though.
Never a ‘we’.

The Way Things Are

Hearts are fragile things, indeed.

I took mine out,
placing it in you path.
I stuck around,
watching to see
what you’d do.

It must have been
mud colored
or covered with leaves
by some malicious breeze,
for you did not see it.

Even now,
you fail to notice,
though it’s stuck
to the soul of you shoe.

Ego, metaphorically speaking

Flirting with You involves:

multiple stab wounds, three
broken ribs, two black eyes,
a dislocated shoulder, a
shattered knee, 1 quart of 2
types diluted with whatever
dirt, and other particles of
grime that are ground in.

i now have a broken
rainbow collecting just
under the surface of my skin
- yellows, greens, purples
and blues. You have a loose
tooth and a mouth of tinned
blood dripping down your
rough chin.

none of this matters, my
skin is thick, my bones strong
and so are yours – i
would suffer through those
acute pleasures all for You,
just to do so with You,

but i didn’t count on You,
did not count on You
finding a way in and
twisting my heart out. You
walked in so casually - did
so much damage – and i
didn’t even stop You.

The Ant

From my earthly vantage point,

I gaze at you in awe.

Clearly I see before me

an Atlas

strong enough to heft

the weight of the world

on his shoulders.

In your shadow,

anything I might be

stands as tall as an ant

posturing in front of Olympus.

Call me charlatan,

I have no choice

but to agree.