polish my petal pushers and crack my baloney

to determine the tide and time of it all.
but part wants to say there is no direction

no convoluted exigency
embellished in withdrawal
through depravity and angst

starlight tells little
of the sky they occupy
names owned
tell more of the namers…..

the thing itself a particle of speculation

how to proceed?
with caution, with care
with abandon, with indiscriminate address

following the process, not the processors
–owning the nature of portents
and the downside of countless hills

do you see yourself when you awaken?
or is the day mostly within …

i believe life is more than waxing
to the wane

i think it’s about knowing how most would stop
therefore you continue onward

i think it’s about seeking approval and not needing approval at the same time

there’s no reason to fear your own thoughts
eventually they silence

nobody understands how fast a decision is made
how long it takes to say i’m sorry
how quickly a garden grows when you are not watching

nobody knows why it’s better to say “what can you do?”
than admit that you can do nothing

the best words are never spoken

highlights of a confluence
embarkment of a consecration
deliverance belongs to the end of time
but the end of time belongs only to oblivion

try as i might
my eyelids fall and i wish for peace
before rest
knowing it is my wont to scurry and worry
to pace and pounce and proclaim … before i find
myself once again

looking at my toes and thinking
numb is only a difference

part of me never understood cruelty
never saw where the stalker arrived
swelled and burst
intonations

the mirror is a beast
but rather — what a mirror becomes
soughs and sighs
partners and pilgrimage

no dusting is complete without a tear for infamy
i was ruled by nothing overtly familiar
though coldly alert

time and tenacity and telescoping perpetuity
…dawn was mastered

now i want to see how far it is to remembering where i left
the last dance that broke time
and made me deathly ill over death and its equality
to anything mistreated

birthed …. from a right and distracted somnolence
sprouted out of gripping the outskirts of a spin
to balance neatly on ruffles

at the center of every norm.

breathing the one thing no breath can repeat
offering no sacrifice but the present in all its awkwardness

resilience proceeds with caution and verve
moves with stupid and wisdom and delight
no amount of hope can halt redacted controversy
gloaming and gristing
the day looks up and ahead there is light
and warmth and laughter
ready to meet the more favored
of copious tears

stumbling onward
i am no more seen than a ghost
no more necessary than the last envelope

holding a final letter that is not meant for silence …
but for screams

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2 Replies to “polish my petal pushers and crack my baloney”

    1. for ones like this i go into a different state of mind, less directed and more flowing. basically i give up caring about a message of any kind and leave it to be art. it is for the reader, not me clarifying my own thoughts. therefore, more universal.

      if i wrote like that all the time it would tax the living daylights out of me….. takes quite a bit to tap into

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