A fire engine red square in a blue circle,
that’s the very definition of monachopsis.
I am blanketed languishing in all of this,
it’s tiresome living life like it’s on critical.
Fluctuating between stability and gone,
so many memories attached to four walls.
Walking that fine line I slip and it all stalls,
thrown down persuaded I’m the only one.
Battering hard every bit of my equilibrium
is a vision of how everything was before.
Each person that has danced on this floor
hit a beat now attached to my desiderium.
The last moments of this legendary venue
tears spring to my eyes as I see the lights.
This stage where I spent so many nights
will never give another band their debut.
I have to believe a story exist between us, with like words we tell together,
though with time approaching, and yet much sooner than imaginable, you and I can be seized in a passing wind.
Anxious seasons change without rhythm all around us, for reasons we claim no knowledge of,
maybe to shoulder the weight I once carried when you walked away leaving only a promise.
Evening's presence befalls as I stand desiderium, unsure if it's you I once knew,
held inside lines on a page I'm convinced we shared, though read only once, and just in silence......
Written 17 October 2015 at NTC, Fort Irwin, CA (National Training Center)
Rhythms of Glass
These shards of you
Broken from the whole crystal you
Glittering razors
Of soft defenseless
Leave me begging their wounds
To pierce me more
Each slithers delicate reflection
Holds you
With prescient
To my soul and heart
Longs
With darts and bards of blood
The fragile formed
Such succulent tortures
Dreams of you
Palpable
Fragments slide between
Such pulsing wants
Holographic dust
Of you
In fluid font signatures
Trammel through me
On tiny claws
Of bliss
And their ache
This needle points petal
In these shavings of you
Wafts electric spirit
In me through to you
Suffers desiderium willingly
My collected motes of a star
Burning kisses in my palms
A stinging draft of love
Slake my thirst
In quenching rhymes
Of you
Palpable
Fragments slide between
Such pulsing wantings
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