prickling at the Told You So's

toss it in the trash babydoll

You ain't worth the burning of the cane, can or to add injury

to the bluest moon, to insult Cain and sibling alike

no-no-no and not a token remark farther to rip prickles at my soul

It takes but it never gives; 

retrosprective dillema, eyes wide open under the mistletoe

Well I be dammed if you aren't a deer in front of an incoming train

It don't pay to lie to the Devil or oneself,

and considering I am not in the business of fooling either way

I won't be torn apart nor prickled at at whims, satire nor jumping to order or instructions

Catching strays like I can't restrain nor reframe thought to process

Tapping my feet yet I don't feel like dancing

the wrong side of sympathy when it reflects a road so-oh-so heartless

to make concessions when they take offense and make objections?

if I am loneliest when you are near, yawn tapped forcefully 

I hear a tear, a disconnect grown cold far along the crossroad

the true ridicule is to keep poor entertainment when I have long learnt

where I feel happier in better company

alone in a room.

reimagine: a prayer serves little to the blind and the deaf, let it be for it must be (so-so)

an uplifting connection

a bridge, suspended between naivity and sunset

postmodern infectious disease disguised as a champion of distress

a fever chewing at the bones of torment, love is in the air (and it's HOT EVER SO HOT)

group up, team up, round 'dem up

after the hallow halls of empty embers, November gives chase

and what awaits we shan't acknowledge just yet.

doctor it hurts, me... deeply

when I get my hand stuck in the lever of the vault where

I got stuck on a blender 'sess' bleeding key, raw throat

never fuck crazy least their teeth toss your love in trash

baby what you don't understand is

I already saw what despair looks like and let me tell you

the sight of that man jumping in front of that moving train

shook me stupid, to a transfix: baby sister I once believed family meant we would die for one another

but now I realize you wouldn't do the same

and that's just not sitting right with me.

groove is to keep your eyes open and on the mind

of potential blindspots

in defiance we serve not as idols but vessels

of the infinite wisdom spinning deeper despite the callout

to push against in vain resistance

my sinful confession is to implode in greater sloth

If I say I regret it that's a poor man's rendition 

I surrender (unwillingly) for the clouds cannot placate

my greater fallen state of mind is not betraying heaven

but my own damm self:

"they told me if I love God

they told me I would find you...there!" 

a saying cannot maim, it serves poorly as a weapon construct as such

a soothing hand can guide and smoother given enough pressure

a gentle woman can detonate your entire fucking life (believe me I have seen it)

embers are kind and generous

when they restrain from burning (my house)

I'm glad for the flowers that breath chemistry

below the heavens at an adequate, moderate sea lovely cradle

gone faster than the dices dangling sparks and tasers

guiding hands, finite strokes of fantastical (hot) what If's

capital G's for Generational Gap  {or what is general gender gentrification?}

heck it all bends when the cavity of my chest gives pause if the right person moves with purpose

tracing paper cannot testify, not this time

I don't always serenate to myself, and if I do it breaths nostalgia like breaking bread with an old friend

of that I am certain and cannot tell the difference:

if the Bonfire night, season, callout is upon us you can bet I'mma wander back

to the fears of heights and graves from yesteryears when I clowned around

and telling the truth got me in crux crossroads

a misguided lesson ill afforded to burn at both ends

of that I am certain and now understand the difference.

I remember guiding hands

open bonfires and leaping short legs, shorter people still

cheers and friendly company drowning animosity to the fellow neighbor

grilled meats and Fire excite and trill so very easily

as we run, toss and turn we look as the embers wrap around

involve, take shape, turn and leap with us

warmth and safety grow and fret with adequate risk

side by side with purpose

whenever they are kind

and generously do not burn my body

sparring my soul momentarily

what is to own a fellow scars if deep down

we are carbon and atom alike exchanging vitals dangerous to one another

as if wishful thinking could be less dangerous

to me if I noticed

I stave the fire in my sleep making it hella sexual

a narrative of juxtaposition akin to the tales where the princes

end up dancing forever.   

20/20

a familiar space craves disgrace

like a low heartbeat invites excitment

a primal call towards prey, headlights frozen

accidents are a gamble that one's lost

despite fancying not the chances

nor being aware of the cost as they stepped into

the divide that unites hunter to callous victim

to what's worth it hurts little to like one chops

from distance to bounty a singular strike

practised like a pick-up line aims and therefore rings

true should they match the vibe, for see I know of you

granted I know little to nothing about you, assuming we 

are all burdened by our demons, so take it or leave it

fantasy is to hang steady for someone to call you to their side

as if they were on your team, nothing of the sort.

____________________________________________________ 

the key to the puzzle is not tearing down the pieces

nor confusing hallow spaces for where the lock may slide wide open

to add confusion to the general frenzy of panic as phantom pain triggers

my sides, blowback/flashback to see another possibility, branch to the bonefire

what folk fail to connect is that what drove me mad

was not losing everything I ever wished for or had

nor talking to the Moon not understanding natural satellites cannot replace

at most replacing the promise of an open heaven as the eyelids close shut

no matter the bend or cronies turn arounds the distance dictates

that the worst of them is to be made a fool of entirely.  

____________________________________________________________________________

there is something so fundamental and particular

in the resounance of a camp out under the stars

plain, raw disconfort in a caked uneven dirty blanket for a bed

tiresome drawn out conversation exchanging politeness for emerging

realization that it is little that marvels and shines iconic once tested

I was brought up to become a provider, come out of my shell and detest spiders

I'm scared I pale to give fundamental roots I can barely get right in the daylight

I disagree with the Sun and don't always get by but for what's worth I stake no claim

nor am good at keeping secrets but that judgement call is not mine to grieve;

I adore Life and lay no intent in overlasting my own grief nor infect others with hate

a follow-up, an emergency to break the rules from time to time: it pays to smile and iluminate the room

my heart last exploded when I walked off a clift willingly, aware another held not my hand but my life

understanding the exchange of trust, experience and brotherhood

a silent resilience is where there is growth, a shown difference

I too was afraid of making a mistake and that's why I do not distrust the spider nor the writer

we all keep secrets inside (us)

I don't always need what I crave but I do sometimes get it too damm right

and it tastes simply divine.  

he said she said (this and that- it sounds stranger whenever you closer; it rings true in our heads and farther from the destination)

"So come a little closer, tell me it's all in our heads 

We're young and in love, heart attacks waiting to happen 

So come a little closer, tell me those three little words"

sore spots are a sign that the pressure

pressed on has forced out what was locked away

the tag stamps the timeline just as fine as the sandal slips in distain

both to old age and aggravated assault by degree of force or weighted pursuit

some things simply are not meant to be, simple addition and subtraction

a mirror distorts, bends, deflects just as light breaks and our eyes lie

an enigma that knowledge alone cannot dispel, just setup new beginnings

a grove to nurture and take solace (in) should one find need to rest (or hibernate, quietly, just as Summer)

ends so do passions, whoever it comes to be the decider, shared comission or otherwise

it does not take an expertise to empower my decisions irregardless of permission:

leave some space to facilitate the divide of ambition without the setback of surgical precision

a narrow comedown to the drumming of heartbeat and tension dissipate all the same,

a river meeting manmade cannal or drug injections, don't make it my decision

"don't wait for me"

 we all get to be the victim,

once.

I love coffee (cafeine too)

post-mortem delirium, I saw a man

separate limp from torso, intestines dangling like webs

scatter my room ceiling like an elegant chandelier

what used to be a prisioner of circunstance is now a welcomed guest 

the spider, not the spectrum crawling on a most unholy night

flesh cannot defeat metal nor the concrete curb nor the separation of heart from chest

cavity open when it should be sheltered, beating and truly alive

blood is a most unsettling sight, a reminder heaven is a breath away

beloved leave the scene. disregard the photographs they are meant for the evidence report

given a choice 

friends today are the enemies post haste firing the same strays

that shutdown your valid (or frantic feelings) 

know not what they have given away willingly for little to no benefit

fruit of circunstance da-ra-da-randar

no feet, do not stray

onto my mouth even by accident, I cannot stop them

an avalanche of communal perplexing awkwardness (difuse it with a claim for genetic stupidity)

no, I won't take it back: (feelings are chemical anyway)

didn't save a receit and quite frankly haven't figured out this whole adulthood (yet)

in the same veins run enticement for pain and an allergy to genuine affection

an affliction infringing on personal grounds burnt to core, ashe to the point;

all to nothing and I got here just fine across the pond under, down, down, under.

wounds do not betray, they remedy by act of translucent masquerade

stumbling about in pursuit of an evaporate state of aloofness, a typical refuge to hide

common fears, doubts plain to the general eye

if I dance I sway and no longer deny, hide and go to painful clashes to evade

the call to move in uncontrolled mayhem at the ready to pay the piper

an age of gladness

toes in, tap, tap, tap

even if misunderstood I follow

a metric (metro) sound that eventually shall put me to sleep.   

if hell is where hope is sent to die

to limbo I shan't go

my knees dread the jump, skip and hoop rope rodeo

released from the coffin my heart has been set loose

signed and past-dated, gated and chained no longer

a trail ran cold, a chill lingers in the air

oh good lord those howls aren't dogs at all?

or surely the domesticated sort

how many bodies can my attic conceal

limps reaching the ceilling in a messy senseless rebellion

against space, a disgrace of unfanthomable proportions

sinners deserve the fire but times are hard, oh so tense

economy runs wide and large and we cannot spare further pyre 

the magical number is the unsettling sort

not quite the power struggle of the narrow airways

brushed off whenever the party has died down

and we greet for one, last, time: farewell

snap, crack, tap; make them feel defeated

you are what you eat after all, not what you fuck (up)

good lord they think they can outrun me, aha

to smother is to regain control by borrowing time

to lie is to sound less ingrateful to the poor sods pleading for air

risen to dive in a pursuit anew

an ocean of souls betrays the lack of oxygen received

saturated by lines afloat, reeking of troubling desires

perfume, meant to seduce and attract

ensares, traps just the same

bones feel like porcelane when the call goes adrift

do I dare look back at what I have become,

is there, ahead, past the blurry horizon

precipice or crossroad;

salvation or dammnation

our forebearers do call, warn and protest

choice words we adamant steel ourselves again in natural progress

an irrelevant attempt at biting back in anger, protesting a fury

now dull, now echo.

you dont know what you have

until you lose it

isn't that a trial that fire cannot erase.