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
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
Please Death, give my parents one more day.
They’ve yet to apologize.
They’ve yet to change.
Do not take them away until
I hear new things said
Give them one more day
As many as it takes
I don’t mind the wait.
Life are you pleased with yourself
At the cleverness of the maze you’ve designed.
Do you feel joy when I get confused
Do you feel guilt when I get tired
Have you grown bored
Thomas Typewriter 
You must be logged in to post a comment.