• ~
    And I’ll wrap my fingers
    Around this rose garden residing
    In the fairy tales of my convoluted mind
    Watching paint peel and fall to dusty
    Corners of places I no longer
    Tread. Watch me as the flower
    Petals fall and my hopes and dreams
    Shatter unto shards of rotten wood
    As I, dance the night away under soft moonlight
    As the sun dies among us, here
    Here in this place without sound.
    Let me show you how I’ll walk the
    Narrow pathways of past and present
    And listen to the sound of waves
    Crashing along distant shores while
    I remain in meadows contained within
    This stagnant room of curdled milk and ink
    Stains that float along the floorboards.
    I’ll doodle life stories on fogged up
    Windows made of stick figures and
    Sad faces that melt with the condensation
    Of our breaths intertwining between the
    Cartons of chinese food and the heady
    Sound of the rain against the sills of yesterday.
    I’ve let the dirt pile up in the flower
    Beds, the dreary drawl of lemon lips
    And misunderstood communications
    In which you and I have gotten lost
    In the typewriters of tomorrow and
    The books lost to the eternal shelves of time.
    It’s nigh past midnight and I’d forgotten
    The necessity that tomorrow must
    Inadvertently be another day where
    The cows will low in distant fields
    And the ebb and flow of what I’d
    Wanted to do with my routine of
    Tea and thought and pondering was
    Buried beneath the rubble as I discovered
    The Mayans through the bloodied
    Geometric shapes of raindrops on
    Your windowpane. I’ll let you feel the way
    As I lose myself in sofa cushions and
    Bits of newspaper that serve to remind
    Me of the black and white of things cast
    To dull shades of licorice and ivory
    While gumdrops hang from the ceiling
    As I acknowledge the fact
    That there is no such thing as tomorrow.
    These sunflowers I’d sprung from
    The recesses of this deserted closet
    Have misled their disposition for they
    Remain in the cluttered confines of what
    I used to know and think and feel
    While your spider webs clog the airways
    And pump empty kernels into my not so beating heart.
    I’ll still listen to the pitter patter of your rain storm
    Even while I wish, I wish that
    The small grass clouds would make me feel
    As at home as the clouded grass that serves as land
    But I fear I got lost in the snippets of old
    Magazine clippings that echo in convoluted clouds as I
    Stumble on memories of pavement trips and
    Broken photo albums of restaurant days.
    What made me ask you why the ground was
    More sky than sky was ground as the colored
    Pencils descended along my puzzled
    Life that feels so much more like oatmeal
    Than of the crystal you so fawned over?
    Perhaps I’ll never know past
    The half eaten bowl of fruit loops and
    Frosted flakes gathering mold on the kitchen table
    As the dust piles half an inch thick on
    The dreams and hopes I’d thought I’d dream
    From the ignorance of a brilliant mind.
    This is the ignorance of a brilliant mind,
    I thought I’d let you know.
    ~