i try to let out my voice i try to be assertive i try to come across as dominant, even driving my econobox down ponce, i realize there are light years between myself and who i want to be the universe has bound my personality to a square, but I remember a past life where roundness prevailed
echo, echo
pounding fills my head at the thought of you. a voice whispers to run with nowhere to flee to. i love now, with you, but my fear of the future is almost deafening. could you please turn it down? the static fills my vision, but for you, dear... i would go deaf and blind. so i run into your arms.
blank canvas
beauty grates on my eyes, and music on my ears. i live in the grey, listlessness the strongest mood, until i found some rose tinted glasses resting on your nose. no, life is no michelangelo, no picasso, no rembrandt, but sharing these glasses with you... oh, you, you, you. i feel alive on this crutch, but one day I must heal and walk alone again.
jellyfish
park the car at the visitor\'s center and everything is okay palm trees line the border and the air smells like saltwater oceans of tears await, but first, the gulf
so stupid
each slash and every swing drains me of vitality my blade, a mere extension of my arm through the dark, i battle in hopes of something different and at last, i am drained i morph, in the arms of my lover to her worst nightmare i am my shortcomings, nothing more, nothing less and yet, the sword remains
last frost
i sit, perched, on the castle roof
admiring the birds flying by
oh, to swoop through the air
and to be free from the earth
i took the path less traveled by
and yet, i don\'t think
it made any difference
i have made it to the heights
albeit battered and bruised
do the scars lend character?
or is that only what one says
to a child victim?
the cruelest
brassy voices make percussion makes me why you? unto whence we came and rising from the ashes no point to the thorns cumulus pillows cushion turf blankets itch why care? the wiggles of the world fleeting fleeting gone but even so, we love
state of being
system status check failure: folds of the brain filled with static smoke, my gears squeaking, in need of oil. carelessly lost the remote. a spark nibbling at kindling, a blaze devouring forest, a smoke that clouds my thought and melts me away into mist. gravity worked over eons to pull together the sun, and so it shall assemble my scattered shards. -m.m.
sour grapes
home is in your arms
running my fingers through
your curly hair
that\'s too damn pretty
and falling asleep to the sunrise
or at least it used to be
until i left my heart
in the backseat of your car
now i\'m having panic attacks
on public bathroom floors
the sun won\'t shine
where the ground is bloody
so it sure won\'t shine on me
i\'ve been trying to get my heart
back inside where it belongs
you were my home
a privilege you callously rejected
-m.m.
lovers of a sort
out of the mist,
into the end,
waking up in a
sweat-dampened bed.
i will not fall back asleep again.
they play their demented game
of tag in that
twilit school,
what used to be home to me.
they raucously call,
guffawing,
voices echoing with footsteps
against cold, unpolished tile.
this is the end.
like prey, i am caught.
it matters not which one it is
of those boys i treasure,
or did once
in my waking hours,
the result will always be the same.
detestable.
gruesome.
agonizing.
my body is used as a toy
for animals who stole their faces
but once you see a person
in such a context, with such fear
you can never
see them the same.
-m.m.