A groan arises in the house
Unsure if legs remain steady
One last feast to assemble the dead
Soon these thoughts, these words, will exit my head
A groan arises in the house
Unsure if legs remain steady
One last feast to assemble the dead
Soon these thoughts, these words, will exit my head
Break the shovel
Little do they care
Shouting voices
Lose a puzzle
Five lines make a square
Shouting voices
Gurgle a lost tongue
Know little is undone
Your box of taste sits on the table
Next to the silverware and dishes of high importance.
Please, if you’re able, make room for my unique flavor.
Only if your capable
Because soon the day will come
Where I am unwound
Lost and first through the exit
And at that time, let me take solace
Finding a measure of reassurance
That on a table
Next to the dishes from our wedding night
Next to the silverware we meant to use
Sits a box
Holding the smile you claimed
At the smells I would emanate
An audience of one face and I can concentrate
Unfortunately
At larger scales all my thoughts spill out
The more the faces, the lesser the balance
User action required
Unfortunately
Panic inflates
Every thought now in doubt
Challenged and re-examined
Slipping away in the ceaseless reshuffling
Hypothesis and expenditure have their own rhythms.
The bridge is built before the blue prints.
Listen deep as the message repeats
The Assembly is the prism.
The Effort is the schism.
The Scattered Light bent into self fulfilling scripts.
As you go your way, making your day
To you what can I say…
except,
Balances explain checks and Figures whisper facts.
It seemed so important at the time.
What is left to say when the words fly away
When yesterday seemed so important today
Words and phrases arranged into such elegant displays
It seemed so important at the time.
Imagine my dismay at Time’s lack of stay
The moving hands always revisiting, always in sway
Catching nothing, letting the pieces of me stray.
It seemed so important at the time.
Pain is a pin
Piercing pages of the calendar
A moment that never gives in
Existence without structure
Till it ends
With frantic hopes of never again
An ounce of nothing refused to play
An ounce of nothing refused to say
The words that make up a day
Of hope, of joy, of foregiveness, of exchange
To think the effect of something which does not exist
Would affect a life
Yeilding a direction change
In this moment, stillness surprises me
It confidently strides across my afternoon
Clearly living the better life
I follow, traveling short paths to long thoughts
My words were never magnificent,
too full of awkward pauses.
too distant from the Muses’ golden songs
Until then
Until I reach that beautiful chorus
And words explode from my vibrating bones
fully formed
graceful
dancing
Across the page.
Until then I repeat
repeat
repeat
Stacking phrases and random words like building blocks
into towers lopsided, and not always lasting
more wreckage for the next
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