Category Archives: † † †
it takes some distance to reflect,
to stop, think, process, wait.
admitting you are wrong is one thing,
what you do to address it is
another thing entirely.
some people talk a good game,
revealing little except results.
both playing cards close to the chest,
& from beneath the table.
what’s the point in just speaking,
about things you want to do.
when these things could already be removed
from the lists you’ll never write.
before the paper peels,
the train is missed,
& dreams are out of date.
time spent treading water,
isn’t wasted when,
you use it to survive.
observations of a busy street.
a book store smells a certain way,
the comfort of a million stories.
time spent will unlock its promise.
a ball of twine is a welcome sight,
the promise of something to be made or mended.
a couple, drinks water in different ways.
one from the glass, one straight from the gym.
a friend pulls a friend away from a passing bike.
the way they smile at each other afterwards,
suggests they’ve been friends for a while.
moments later, we’ll be someplace else.
minutes later, we’ll be gone.
i like the way certain trees
can shape the sound the wind makes
as i walk alongside the train tracks
i could swear to you
that i can hear the breath of the ocean.
to my ears
i feel like i’m on a cliff
with the clouds ahead preparing
to rage over serene waters
marking the beginning of the storm.
it’s about to rain & i’m waiting
i’m wondering if this ground will soon
be too wet to walk on
or will my shoes commence to slip?
when is a good time to do anything?
i don’t like talking much,
the idea of escape is amazing.
encapsulated by the absence of light
a man tormented by the guilt of his past
feels he is owed beyond his own sentencing.
is he entitled to a second chance,
or just has nothing left to lose?
“the love i feel is not confused
i shouldn’t feel so good
its weird feeling guilty about your life
when it’s going so good
enjoy it while it lasts
there are still things i’d change in life
like where i went each day
& that i want to truly let the ideas i have inside me
to grow toward beauty.
in this cell.”
yesterday he lay dead on a hospital bed
cycling, swimming, running, relapse
these were the order of events
he wrote about them all
these are the stories to be told.
it’s hard talking about love. people always talk about how they can’t define it, it’s a noble feat to live your life trying to. i want to be well-respected & loved. i wanted to be famous but after the life i’ve lead i’d be happier just to be alive. when i stopped wanting to be famous i overcompensated with everything to try & pretend i didn’t care. all in a vain effort to conceal the reason for my decisions. when i lost people i didn’t live in a way that honoured them. at the time i bandied around the word “lukewarm” – it was a word i used a lot to decipher what i thought was weak. to be “lukewarm” was the worst thing imaginable to me at the time. to have failed. the truth is, i never really got over it. the reality, of what had happened that is. it’s prophetic when you start repeating things to yourself, to be become what you fear. we’re defined by our failures, just hopefully not remembered for them. we’ve done the things we do so many times before. to climb over the wall. to mean it. to take the time it takes. i fear for the few who were smart enough to see it but didn’t stick around long enough to change.
whenever i walk up a flight of stairs
if i do not concentrate completely,
at one point i fear falling & almost fall.
my brain miscalculates the distance & i
can’t seem to place my feet in the right position
i grab the hand rail & steady myself,
it haunts me & i can never seem to shake it.
it’s due to a recurring dream
i have about escalators.
my paranoia tricks my sleeping mind into believing
that hundreds of miles high above the world
on an escalator with no handrails,
that i’m trapped.
in the sky the steepest test
climbs up beyond the clouds
an ascent without end
on a moving staircase,
that i must remain upon to escape.
my fear is that by doing anything
other than standing still,
i’ll fall to my doom.
the height of the see-through platforms
on which my toes tremble,
just makes me freeze.
i’d drop to my knees
lowering my sense of gravity
clinging closer to the separated steps.
i used to have the dream when,
for some reason i’d been dizzy
during that day
i’d wake up sweating at night
trying to gasp fresh air from the gap
between the top of the window and the windowframe,
in an effort not to be sick.
as this trait is now a part of me,
where one could go to read it on my body.
imagine if fingerprints could give such
detailed information about
us as individuals
to those in the future or now,
about our fears.
i still have the dream
but more often than not
i wonder what sounds our fingerprints
& dna would make,
if we could record them.