Undead

As our fall slips into cold December
and further still our racing pulse is ended
the stage of our immortality is set
in the minds of those who choose to remember
upon the stage our corpse is brought to dance
and memories relived,
all accuracy aside
and we, in passing, are not allowed to die

Skin of a dog. Soul of a cat

You have the skin of a dog
But you move like a cat
Not quite sure where your bones are at
It's too hard to tell where your muscles have set
With the body of a dog
And the mind of a cat
This graceful lumbering is disarming
All too often it leaves me alarmed
It was something akin to pity
That drew me to you in the beginning
A fear of what future was held in those
Seemingly broken hips
Only time would prove it
This, decided movement
There is a feline mindset
Lurking behind that canine skin
Hard to judge where the growling stops
And the purring begins

Utilitarian

There is a body of knowledge that is only revealed through poisonous choices.
An awareness that grows from familiarity with disregard to human frailty.
These toxic interests bare revelations of great usefulness.
But markedly stamp their time by pulling the bookends in.
It takes the age of getting used to something to notice slight differences.
To feel the cotton shrink when the heat reaches it.
I wear garments till the are threadbare.
I wear shoes till only the soul remains.
You must have gotten close enough to know that I will smoke you to the filter as well.

Observations of a callous man

I will not shake out this cold
It has latched it self to bone
and the heat is leaching.

The heart is nothing if not stone
I can't be trusted far as I'm thrown
and the heat is leaching.

Twisted, dark, and feeling old
my back is much more better known
and the heat is leaching.

For hard self interestI am prone.
reacting harsh when light is shone.
and the heat is leaching.

I will not shake out this cold
It has latched it self to bone
and the heat is leaching.

intrusion

A whirlwind world has left me often wordless
But feeling like a forceful hand is sure
What often motivates the world to bitter own self-interest?
What wonders await the traveler forlorn?
This high-stakes game has no reward
and hands regard each other as a vehicle toward calamity
With shaking ground to stand upon this emptiness spreads
Now most of me is marked by what I lack
And no one here can pick up all my slack.

posh

I often feel the watching eye has passed me over.
The knowledge of this mixes my feelings
Partly glad to be unnoticed
And fairly feeling underrepresented

"Just holding up this end of the bar"

Once upon a time:
I was well versed in various curses
First to raise the verbal fist for wanton worries
But the surely dirges found no fault in my youthful thirst
and furtive was the bounty of my narrative
A slight return to stages set
I mastered flippant shows of apt insurgence
No mind was left unpenetrated and elation was rampant in those early years
Life seems nicest to those who are least deserving
However, shed no tears for the sloping drop of this man's life
Feel no remorse for the tiresome effect of time long passed
and weary are the eyes of those that see
and watery the ears that hear this weight
and wanton are the hands that feel the silk of breath escaping

the plot thin-ens

From cognition to construction
I was fed my opinions
The same opinions we are all fed.
I dead on gender
Age
Race
Definitions
We make enemies of each other
Of everyone
Of ourselves.
Only forming allies to help fight the world.
It is only man versus man
and never man versus nature or self

important

It is important to know who I am

How I see myself as it stands against

How you see me.

Don't let that make you.

Decide for you.

Do not rely on other people 

or things

organizations

to decide for you.

They will always miss part

Or the whole of you is lost in the short term goal

My amalgamative state was never mine to begin with

But here I am

Behind the wheel 

Choosing to steer into oblivion.

fan girl

Embrace the apathy
Happily ever after while you laugh at me
something sad was always happening
I understand why you reject it open-handedly
Can't blame the man who never stands with me
Can we?
Blackmail breeds blasphemy
Cracked cankers carelessly corrected catastrophe
"Fast" does no distraction from family matters
Matter of factly you fascinate me
Fanatics always were big fans of me.

Once, Again.

I built it up.
I fell for my own delusions again.
My mind keeps slipping into this same,
Disillusionment.
There is a comfort in the lie I create.
But the world cannot align.
I am only a god in the imagination.
Beyond that?
My insanity is not strong enough to bend rock, move steel,
Or shape hearts.

beholden

In the final moments before the dawn
I held the event in such high regard
As if the outcome was my life
Some incarnation of my essence
I clung to this idea as a baby to anything within reach
With no understanding except the grip itself
But the passing of time is cruel
The hand of truth is firm
The moment it had been yanked from before me
was the moment i knew i did not need it

motivator

a glance to those in front
Which,
at this time,
is just about everyone
Then it is back to....
downward gazing
I have the aspirations to conquer
but the resolve to remain stagnant

It crossed my mind once
I slow sweeping motions
Like spilling paint on a canvas
and once the idea came in there was no chance of removing it
even with the time that has passed
it is still there
lurking, just out of reach
but in the moment,
At the instant it decides to be,
Red is all I can see.

back

Light between the sheets of rain
this feeling fleeting like the pain
it whispers something once i knew
and turns it's back again

I utter no more sweet refrain
as spirits dance before my brain
with failing wings that never flew
It turns it's back again

The trail went cold

I tried to lead you to me.
Wanting to get caught.
But the trail went cold long ago.
Not from lack of trying.
On either of our sides.
The heart was there to keep the fire burning.
But the trail went cold long ago.
I wrung my hands in anticipation.
In scrupulous planning
I laid out every step a million times for you to follow.
But the trail went cold long ago.
You did everything that was expected.
You took your time and checked each step.
With perfect measure you were led by me.
But the trail went cold long ago.

is this long enough to qualify?

I have poor timing
Mostly comedic
I step on my own lines
My goal is always met to short
I leave the audience wanting too much more
and i am not willing to offer it

thankfully unhappy

Why am I so suspect of joy?
What is it about contentment that makes me restless?
Looking over my shoulder.
Checking the time.
I can feel the hurt of 'real' creeping in.
There is a comfort in the pain of living
and the sadness of it's absence always taints my happiness.