February 2011
Is this enough
Never
I wish to breathe
God
In every given breath
Let it span forever within my
Chest
Growing towards the outward
Expanding
Contracting
Living inside like a child
Yet to be born
It resides there
Unseen
Softly speaking
Whispering softly
Of the herald of a new
Essence
A sigh of anxiety
A moan of anticipation
Waiting for the presentation
Of the purest of things born
In imperfection
Made into the ephemeral
It is wanting that evolves
It is its absence that is
Stagnation
And I will become a monster
To take what is already mine
And turn it into ornaments
Fit to crown kings
A king I shall be
And breathe perfection
Soon
January 2011
Repress it all
Press it down
Under the skin
Under memories
Till nothing exists
But a faint glow
Like a scar being relived
And even the slightest reminder
Breaks the stillness so
And back it comes up
Still gurgling up into thought
When it should be tucked away
In the most forgotten recesses
Push it back down
And slowly it becomes too much
Too hard to fight it all
An explosion of tangents
Off of a cliff made of it
Sharp and jagged at the bottom
Where the jaws wait to pick at you
Chew up your stature down to the nubs
Until it spreads itself thin and is accepted
Exhaustion
A perfect price paid in heaving breaths
For trying to drown wood in water
Give me sadness
Give me anger
Give me happiness
Give me ecstasy
Give me anxiety
Give me emotion
Pure undiluted emotion
Split from reason and rhyme
Let me sit here
Soaking it all up and eating it up
And I’ll be done when my plate’s empty
Licked clean of wounds and wonder
A full belly of poison digested
Slowly excavating me
In endless directions
A confusion of what is wrong
All I can do is sit
And stand to bear it all
In sudden moments of smiles
Then of tears pouring
Give me emotion
I’ll give you appetite
The slightest cessation of breathe
Breaking over the morning silence
A small sacrifice made of blood
Tears follow the river made red
Name it all patronage to future
Unmade and unseen by any
Fear governing one’s ideals
And crossing lines of humanity
Countless life taken to please
Imaginary omnificence created
And tribute never paid to self
By owns conscious gratitude
Of all the multitude of goals reached
Blame it all on one’s self
Grant the benefit to nothing there
Faith taken too far into consideration
Faith taken too little into consideration
And remedy it all with salve
Made of the softness of both
Melted down into a conscious kindness
Paid to ideal and identity
Rather in blood made out of
Too much love for nothing
