An Ode to Losing Myself Again

Years slip by
and I wonder
what

have I
really

tried?
full-heartedly
without excuse
or
alibi for
my failure,
though my
failings
were tailored
by me
[and I
alone]
?

I’ve wondered,
a cesspool
bubbling un-der
stagnant and
pure
praying like septic faith
to be
sure
of the words
whispered in
drunken ears of night
-time
lovers
palpable as pulp
for the day-time
bed covers

I tell you I love you
like I heavily breathe

then
suffocate, I choke on sky

sky not made
for I
to See
for eyes
as Me
to meet with ease

Should I be
so surprised
to wake
from strange dreams
loving you
again
this day
as I rise
in Spring

in yellows and blues
and gifting greens humblyshy
in my bed like flower-roots
and mystical for roaming runes
-run-dry
my love embalmed
and golder than my tomb
lines like maps on my palm
?     [I am a person
made over again I am for you
a sore June
warm spoon
heavy with dew and dripping
left outside
brand new at
morning’s cue]

Should I be, then,
so

disappointed

to fail again,
another year

too many beers later
cyclically found here..
in some same
manner as eve-
ry year before
[failed
identically, a solitary
vinyl
stuck on re-peat:
two
verses take turns
my inception too sore
to be lit like a wick as it burns

stanzas and words
fucked by Need
till they bleed,
too hard for more

turning and
turning tuning and
singing
I bring sad stars

taking away like before
before war
haunting, learning – discerning
heat for the arctic’s decor
I play

away to May quaking
like decay
recess
digress
we play like beforebliss
on playgrounds of blurred wist

before this tongue
was quick    before
before
a cult-single
creeping on Christmas
so confident in Chris Kringle

starry sick-ness nested deep
wait awake pores spilling
jolly-jingle weeps,

drunk for the killing
sulking silly sleepiness
feeling sexy for the Eagles
and unwilling to quit

plaguing you,
my darling, with grumpy weepiness
pathetic pleads for cigarettes
?

Big dreams are what I eat,
wholesome and heretic
and filling as greed
cosmic as the naked-
eye can see

I eat I eat hungry seeds

I eat
[coffee
in the morning
sad-song-soup
for nights with storms

afternoon poetry
like half-assed dessert
overpriced and underpoured:
vanilla,
delightfully dull and

boringly blood-thirsty
with
strawberry syrup
as an icecream flavor
for a
childish chocolate-lover
bursting with
sugarinspired rage

violent for chocolate
and hungry for huge helpings
that time-fully taste
simple enough to since savor
pink syrup poured in haste

So our symbol for all things
comes in metaphors like
melancholy midnight
snacks
and moments small as cells
waiting for Ends
to turn right back
from horns of
Heaven and halos
of Hell floating functionally, a
drunken sleep-walk
forgotten just for
to
fill our bellies with big talk
spoken small

I purge your calls

I vomit steps
meant to be taken urgently
on blood-red bare
feet
bleeding, a martyr,
worshipping hope
like roses
bright
but thorny
underneath

I don’t mind me much
but
some-day
you may dawn
a dusk
while I pawn a rook
and I’ll take all
I took
and you’ll go
on shining wayway
too good
anyway

I’ll fail as I
know
failure,

comfortable
as a nap

and as loose
as my weak
grapple can grasp
[unpredictable;
some
dark
morning wind

steals
my cap
I stare I feel
I am a gap of your skin]

I love you,
sad and old with sin,

our moon

all the gones
all the soons
shivering cold
too far
from
my Sun of sight, Night
of blue
You are wedding-
white
You are blinding
fright and blackened-eyes,
a safe bedroom
brave
without a night-light
a swimmy soul who lacks
a womb

You are the worthiness
of matter
as stretchy fabrics
of time&space
scatter into
waves

across and
over us
taking hate
like starved snakes

smoking disease
opening gates Biblically
invisible to plagues
We are vague
enough for reality

I am crazed enough
to earn
your love
like lovers laze

There sleeps
between us
balance [like chaos decayed
in our breathe-ings
breathed
use-
less as rust]

a balance called
all-Knowing tide
coming in
strong, sectioned
like punctual progression
sigh-fully gone All
wrong and
unruley

You are more
than money
or Christ dying cry-fully [Risen like resin
in an
empty pipe
smoked
cunningly]

just to be
funny for peasants
nipple-y as raisins
April cries
on the phone
with May cycles as Havens
anticipated by friend-
ly phrases rephrased
in long dazes
You are grass as it grazes
You are beauty of past
as it ages

You can take all I’ve shown, darling,
and grow each green
I can’t know how to grow

I am a drunkard who
bathes in beer to be clean
but
you could take away my pot,
my drunkenness, my stimulants,

even my nicotine

You can take my soul,
steal my time machine
You can take my talents and failure
and destructive behavior
until I dance my mouth all clean –

take my sleep and
my doubts
my keeps and my outs
like anatomy that needed
your blood for my blood
as we live seeded
inside out

for you
I am a spout
of possibility watered, weeded,
and learning to sprout

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