If I'd know what I know now,
I wouldn't have stopped myself.
I'd stab the heart & carve it out.
If I'd know what I know now.
Timidly I knock on the door,
peek through the window of the carnival
where the give & take is pure & simple,
and finding the taste sour & bitter.
You know what I just found out?
Life's over the moment you hold out.
Whether you die tomorrow or a century tops.
In the end it's, if you can forgive yourself.
Category: poem
Drain.
This anger in me, I can't take a breath.
Like steam in the engine, it propels me ahead.
Don't know where I am, unless you're behind.
Give me a look, back to square one.
Counting the money, salvations spent.
Same old habit, who, where & when.
Love is a foreign country, one trip a time.
The spirit drains, in laughters and wine.
Meditation.
I bow to myself in front of me
and surprised by the mortal bile-
a hatred as such I've never felt.
No wonder I'm never happy.
My consciousness repelled by my existence
blocks people & wonders of living.
Fought hard to get to where I am.
Still time to get to the other side?
Lover in the Sky.
My voice.
I should sing with my own voice, not so loud & not so quiet. There's no question in my song. I'm just singing what I want. May the sunshine make it bright. May the night give it might. Sing the song, the spirit take flight, maybe someday you hear my voice.
Brain warmer.
I need to be with myself because I am slow. I don't know when the synapses say go. Give me a moment to make sure they're talking to me and it's not a case of mistaken identity. I need to be alone. I need no excuse. The brain says I'm under-archiving, I say it's overanalyzing. It'd be funny if it's not indefinitely depressing. I'm a lazy brain warmer telling the brain to chill.
Game.
There're certain games I'm afraid to play. I always win & I think I know why. It's a cosmic burden, the unexpected kind. It's the game I call U ❤ I.
Not crazy, but insane.
I feel a certain restraint falling away, might as well have my own instead of someone else's pain. Dare to find a stage to dump this shit. It's me, it's not me, all options are insane.
Biding for.
Freedom is not checking others faces before uttering the next words. Freedom is not holding myself in before letting my presence known. Freedom is poking where it hurts and knowing that remedy is at hand. Freedom is beyond happiness where messy life is accompanied by an internal soundtrack that I enjoy.
Unfolding.
Neatly packaged & put away for keeps, life on a shelf with expiration date. Yellowing, hollowing, echoes from far away. Moldy, haunted, only roaches for company. Bumped outta the place, it's no mistake. Give these creaky pages a turn, origami into alien shapes. It's the unfolding of a love judged outta date. It's an unfolding of a life and its final embrace.
Had I known myself.
Had I known myself, I wouldn't run away to stay close, others' words wouldn't sway my faith. If I had known myself. I wouldn't lie to get ahead only to find it's my own prison cell. If I had known myself. I'd walk with the person I was, listen to all the hurts, laugh at the childish games, pat that person on the back & say, "I see what you did back there. I wish I'd known you better. But hey, we see each other now."
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