Reservoir. (Mini-Series. Part 7.)

Watch me, love,
and wonder.
Confine your peripheral vision
on my silhouette
Only.
Notice that I'm secretly doing work.

Though I won't tell you exactly
what I'm up to,

know this:
It's all for you.

So To Speak

I have an odd request
for you.
Maybe two...

Speak up.
Tilt your chin upwards
slightly,
Straighten your back and
meekly resound your mind to me.
Arrange your words straight as an arrow
and aim directly for my heart's flesh.
I need to know you aren't afraid of sounding off.
Flapping your gums at me, so to speak,
even if a time or two
Is to let me know that
You.
Got.
This.

Also,
Lean in really close to me.
Invade my person and
Match my line of vision.
Speak in low tones with confident demeanor.
Softly enunciate each syllable
so that I will stiffen at attention.
Verbalize to me what lies in the intimate corners
of your heart, so to speak.
I promise that once you
have my full attention
You'll.
Have.
Me.

Hate (part one?)

Hate weighs on the soul
My energy is drained to the point
Where I cannot muster a vowel
To retell the story of why your
Existence in my heart is detestable.

This victim’s song is familiar
And I hum it softly to myself at times
So soothing is the searing repugnance
That I soon find myself crouched in.
A wounded man’s paradise;
Lulled into a cold slumber
From the melody.

Motionless and satisfied.
Happy from the reality I’ve built:
That everyone is malevolent
Way deep on the inside.
I smile from the safety of knowing that
I won’t ever have to try again;
Underneath the weight of
Grave vulnerability.

Offense hitches itself to the hip of the heart
And transitions with me from one stage in life
To the next.
Disappointment thick on my skin;
Covers;
Radiating from me like an aura
That glows with sweet disdain;
The façade of sweet tolerance and longsuffering
Attempts at masking my heartache,
While the pungent odor
Of hatred slowly seeps it way through.

Truthfully,
I have grown wary of the mourner’s sackcloth
And the chains of the slave.
The musty stench of disappointment
Lingering,
Makes me long for fresh air.
I need emancipation from
This place
And the courage to flee
This foggy disposition.

Spring Break Musings. (Mini-Series. Part 9)

You push me to edges.
But revealing that I can go further
Than I thought I ever could.
I see that my edges aren’t really
The end
Of all there is of me.
Rather,
They are a beautiful
Transition
Into greater unknowns.

Hidden (The Meaner Half)

Repressed motives

Shine behind waiting, innocent

Eyes.

Fondness lies in the wake.

Ready to grasp bits of

Warmth,

And

Steal away seconds of

Undivided attention

Before becoming the

Object of jealousy.

Quiet, selfish, and set.

Hidden points of interest exist

Despite the

Depths of another bond.

Betrayal waits,

Prepared to make a mockery

Out of tried-and-true friendship.

…a misguided passion

Taking advantage of actual love.

*written May 12, 2009

Suicide. (Mini-Series. Part 8)

“What doesn’t kill you
Makes you stronger.”
Well, I wish that
I were dead.
I wish I could be a fatality
And not a survivor
...of heartbreak.