This is Normal

I’m floating. I’m sinking.
Tiny vibrations in the head.
Pocket universe of despair.
Falling free.
Loosely.
Sonic waves. Plastered voices.
See you there on a field of roses.
Cold and dead.
Wilted extremities.
These meditations;
telling myself I’m breathing.
Reminding myself its normal
to feel anything at all.
Treading a sea of gravity.
Pinned in place.
Lost in (head)space.
Trapped with no air.
Inhaling stars.
Extinguishing light.
Refilled. Recharged.
Taking my place among the Gods
who jumped for love and landed in the sky.

Advertisements

Just Keep Running

Life.
Day in. Day out.
Mundane and ritualistic.
Wake up. Shower.
Walk the dog. Coffee.
Press clothes.
Toast. Coffee to go.
Leave for work.
Left at end of street
through the S curves,
onward until our eyes meet.

I used to tell time
like any normal person.
Lately I’ve been using
your morning run.

If you’ve reached Gardenia
by the time we pass
then I’m running late.
But if you’ve yet
to make Valencia
I’m on schedule.

It’s a fleeting moment that we share.
A raindrop in an ocean of seconds
that comprise our infantile existence
in a universe so old… that time forgot.

What I mean to say is this:
my world stops when
your sad eyes find my own.
And I don’t know if you’re
running from demons,
toward salvation, or
just… running.

I’m not a gambling man,
but if I had to lay my money down,
I would bet on it being the former.
Because I’ve been on the run too
and I can spot that solemn look.
The one that measures the distance
between your desires and your reality.

If I could speak to you
inside our tiny moment,
I would say one thing only:
Just.Keep.Running.

Because if you run
long and hard enough,
you will one day find yourself
crossing a finish line to find
you never truly ran anywhere at all.
You merely caught up
to who you’re meant to be.

The Edge

We crawl and we cry,
we live and die,
and everyone relates
because these are
dog eared hallmark emotions
of the human condition.

Some of us, though,
are far too damaged
to shed a tear.

We lay awake at night
counting sheep and sirens,
breaths and cobwebs
spun from spiders who
dampened our spirit
with soft silken shade.

Sometimes we laugh.
At times, we even inspire.
But it’s not from talent or practice
or anything that could be
perceived as trade or trait.

Those suppressed few of us
have mastered the art
of hiding in plain sight.
Anywhere else just feels
too much like a sorority.

We’ve endured the hazing,
we’ve shouldered the ass-end
of others cruel comedy.
And don’t think, for one second,
that we didn’t notice
how your name calling graduated
from snot-nose to PHD blows.

You listen to the murmur of our hearts
with gold plated stethoscopes,
and label us with names like:
Clinically Depressed,
Bipolar, Cutter,
Suicidal…
Hoping to push us
from the ledge,
with your projected psyche
and Molotov cocktail
of anti-depressants,
but you won’t succeed.
Because we’ve been
standing there,
toes dangling over,
staring at that final dive,
into the unexplored unknown
for so long now,
that we’ve become
the very edge you
so cautiously fear.

Reverse Charge

river stars

The moon is up
and laughing loud tonight,
at all the lonely trees
whispering at her feet
like homely chambermaids.

Her twinkling stars,
suspended and bright,
pine for a sun that
exiled them to the night.

But it’s my own remorse
that ripples their reflection
on the riverbank where I lie.

It was here
when you first told me
of your wanton affection.
We danced bare-skinned by firelight,
our shadows frolicking over the hills,
like a pair of star-crossed ghosts.

The only dancing I do these days
is with the devil at midnight’s chime.
We do a little glide-step in ¾’s time.
It’s ring around the rosy cheeks,
a pocket full of lonely weeks,
fix a little hit by and by,
demons learn to fly so high.

His butane lips
whisper in my ear,
kerosene thoughts,
setting ablaze
the autumn of my life.

When the ash settles,
on the blunder of
our temporal alignment,
I’ll come crawling
through shame and squalor,
back to the feet
of my desires.

Winter may call upon me then,
with her cold smile and false finality.
I will accept her collect.
Eyes to close.
Thoughts to cease,
on all that was
and all that could have been.