Best Foot Forward

Every one has one thing in their life.
The thing that thy are proud of.
And also what they are ashamed of.
When you show your face to all the world,
Which of these feet falls first is of great importance.
To choose what is seen is a privilege,
Afforded by few.

Blackout

A crisp thin line of sunlight breaks through the curtains.
Draped across my eyes, licking at the floor.
A glimmer of warmth in an otherwise cold space.
Forceful I am ripped from something fleeting.
Dusty and gleaming, a memory fades out of reach.
What lands had I been visiting?
What supplemental life did I leave?
I try to take specific steps to avoid all of this.
Some force beyond my control has seized the reigns.
Beyond my comprehension I am steered.
To places well past my dreams.

A Glimpse Of Insanity

I waited all day for this
The brief interaction
The flash of color in a room of steel
I know your shape so well
From event and savored memory
When in the corner of a waiting eye appeared
Here, among the dirt of those before
My heart and lungs forgot their job
Mind desperately words the thought
I am no stranger to the truth of things
The distance and finiteness I must keep
But even this, the smallest thing,
Helps to lift the spirit of me
From the abysmal mist of my routine

Wanderlust

Painstaking pains, taken to eradicate the pain of forsaken plainness
The maiden of some plane with shaken, uprooted plants
Mistakes my plans for shame painted shams
The saying of this stains thick and heavy laden oil lakes
Cranes crane their necks and peck insanely at the baker's cakes
Take a check at the brakes but begrudge blame while pumping

Reliant

Must we do this trust exercise?

In the dust of all we left behind.

No excuse can levitate the gaze of your eyes,

From thought to word to deed to regret.

This is the line we beget.

Yet, in the wake of yesterday's passing,

The question everlasting returns to you:

Do we deny our fault in all of this?

Will we turn blind and wordless mouth what we believe is truth?

I will no longer hold seat nor candle for you.

sameness

Why must I rely on definitive unreliability
Am I knowingly betraying my desire for completion
Is success so terrifying
I march this same path
The trail now sunken deep in the earth
Thoughts come
Plans go
I fill the void of yearning with bitterness

Get Your Priorities Straight

All things seem equal
At times the lines of quality dissolve
So much confusion
So much contempt
If I were handed a clear path
Straight from here to success
Would I even follow?

Decide

I've tried to fight my vises
Overtime I think that made them stronger
This may be divisive:
But i'm not sure which is the gasoline
And what the fire is
Looking in the eyes I have
Told many lies which
Divided my fortifications
Conquered my mind it's
A sad shame that I have to act so blinded
Moving would just leave me far behind
When push comes to punches
Kicks took more lives
Hiding in the habit
Always just felt like the wisest

Self Loathing

I hate that I am awkward around humans
Regardless of my closeness to members of the group
I hate that I am alone even with the outsiders
I hate that I don't know how to act around people
Often that is interpreted as being rude
I need you to know I am sorry for that

I hate that I am the result of my choices
I refuse to blame others even when I ought
The weight of that self-inflicted burden is soul crushing
I resent my past self furiously
Almost as it were a separate entity
I hold my future self to a standard I know I cannot reach
All so the cycle of guilt will continue

I look back on my failures with blissful disgust
I purposefully discredit my strengths
The only times in my life that I have experienced schadenfreude
Have been at my own expense
I have earned everything that befalls me
Except the good stuff

I hate that I feel guilty for feeling depressed
I feel guilty for feeling guilty
And worse for dragging others into my mess
If I can't solve my problems on my own
I end up with what I deserve
I guess

I long for sincerity in my life
And from the world at large
But I make jokes at the expenses of whatever I can reach
Just to avoid real connection
I hate that I don't care about anything
For fear of being taken seriously I shroud myself in humor and mystery

I hate the knowledge of my finiteness
I realize that I am undeserving of immortality
Not due to some misguided sense of sinfulness
But because my proclivity for laziness
I hate that I welcome my death
In that I will be free of this struggle for meaning
Chasing moving goal posts
Desperately groping for something that I don't believe exists
At least, not in some objective sense

sameness

The squalor remains
Time passes
Efforts stack
Laziness retracts
And distractions revert
Back to the start
This derelict state
enough afterthoughts and tears
Retrain the muscles
Retake the action
Or the squalor remains

Humanity's Purpose

I am the outstretched hand of death

Through me the reach is limitless

I am a boney finger

Stretched with sinew

The cycle of this reign through me continues

The duties of death so easily being managed

Therefor left free to lounge in celestial bliss

Humanity, in wanton neglect of it's abilities 

Carrys on the oldest job of Gods

We take lives of so many things

With slightest misstep, without a thought

An accident can massacre entire species

When we put our mind to it
What great and ending things we

Would surely make Sekhmet blush

POV

I have been staring out this same window
Been over 30 years now
The scenery beyond has gone through change after change
Just as the structure housing this pane

Something is peeling away inside
Away from the vision of those beyond
Behind the sill shadows are growing long
Just as the structure housing this pain

As awareness is revealed
So to the understanding of it's finiteness
Knowledge that this view will be extinguished
Blinds will be drawn
Lights will be cut within and beyond

Whether I run, arms open, to embrace my fate
Or I turn my back, deny the claim of time and ware
The outcome is the same
As rain runs down the glass
The window turns dark for all

Resist

My feet are itching
Up to my ankles
Can you feel it too?
When I put my mind to it
I can ignore the urge
But I am easily distracted
My thoughts so quickly deterred
Then it is straight to the scratching
Release
Sweet red and dripping relief

Something Found In Losing

Rotten water
Forgotten slaughter
Sing-long-song of long lost daughter
Black and silver
Splintered spoon gets hotter
Rusted
Busted machines
Time wounds all heals
Will she ignore each lesson that we taught her

Family

Something clearly muddied
Muddles mumbled in the darkness
Hunching in mental hallways
Always fabricating humble
Unknown origins
Anticipated agreements
Stains yet to be left on carpets.
This smile is slowly swallowed up in darkness

Illusions

With just the right
Amount of light
Or lack of light
Objects just beyond my sight
Are shifting in the night

What We Must

Not sure how to explained this: I've been up for five days.
Ever since you showed me what it meant to freebase.
Seeking growth exponentially,
Of my productivity.
In limitless anguish,
Indistinguishable from start to finish.
I know of only white knuckled escape routes.
Yet existence refuses to relinquish.

A Spotted Zebra

I see myself in these people.
Despite my attempts to be separate.
No matter my intent I remain a number in this mass.
Head hung in silent reverence.
In revered silence to the slaughter.
I turn my eyes downward.
I do not ignore but do my best to appear ignorant.
In some imagined parallel world
I hold my head high and proud.
My choices hold me out of this crowd.
Set apart by actions of the heart.
I tell myself these things.
I am convinced I stand alone.
But day in and day out,
I hide amongst the crowd.

The Glancing Blow

As a mortal, my sins are bore by soil.
Born by result of a failed recital.
Citations in failed sight observations of oversight.
Night begat daybreak and from its womb the downfall spun.
I fell between brush strokes.
All the poses you strike could not negate the fury.
Final glances rebound within the glass; half full.
The lids squeeze tighter than we thought they could.
Should you look through this barrier you gaze will be dismissed.

Short

If you squeeze me hard enough,
Even I can produce some essential oil.
What I lose in utility I regain in aesthetic.
Or perhaps it is the other way round.
Boiled down and crushed out.
Rendered to the things which make me "you".
But in this state I am shy the pieces that made me what "I" am.
Less of the complete man that stood here once.
More of a shadow of a whole.
A hole in the synergy.
The face of a clock that is short a few cogs.
For the sake of an easy to eat,
Small piece of the cake.

4

Sure
No more
Stop before
The love impure
To take control overt
Swell up from the floor
Save from the shrinking breath
There is nothing healthy left
Nothing hear is said
A shallow step
Bereft

From The Ledge

Never let it be said I had a gift with words
I can not talk you off the ledge.
When I see you on the edge,
It's only questions and demands.
I need to know how we got to this point
befor I can get out from it.
But all this rehashing is a push away
Seen as abrasive attacks.

leech

Keep the bloodline pure.
A little letting for the ages.
Bed wetting is a disease worth getting.
Who would you rather be?
What were you thinking?
If at all you were.
Soft as a snowflake in June.
I can force the poison out of you.
The past is lingering on the tip of your tongue.
Despite the attempts to set it free.
I will never be what I am.
From the burden bore by the past of me.

Let's Talk

I risk some lasting backlash
Grasping at these gaping wounds
Wordless
Straining for reprisal.
Digging through the remains of your emotional wasteland
Hoping to leverage something you left behind.

Rounded

I keep pulling at my hair
Till there is nothing there
Left my scalp as empty as my distant stare
Grasping in the air for something worthy of my care
I just can't shake this feeling
That I have missed my equal share
Sifting this language
Taking steps to prepare
Desperately trying to force this circle into a square.

habits

Just go ahead and pick at it.
Inject all the crud you've been carrying.
Packed under your nails.
Force the black up into the wound you have inflicted.
Sure, thats healthy.

Some truth in it

I know that you are phishing for my attention.
I'm fully past caring.
The harder you try
The more I persist
Trapped in this cycle of withholding
Satisfaction found in your short fall
If the question arises
The answer will always be "No"
If taken  for granted
I will disregard the situation completely.