030219A
-----------
February weather,
pushes down and rubs in
under a big grey thumb,
of grinding against
might be heavens.
Fixings have run out,
and nothing comes together,
no matter how you sort,
the causes and effects,
into a same old blur.
Blurred out and forgotten,
as unrecognizable artifact
of the lost civilization
that we once felt part of
but no more.
Wanting to be somewhere
and finding it isn't that way.
Feeling left behind
in a killing field,
as if that actually helps out.
The married ones
go to far too much trouble,
and the singles don't care
about anything but their rut
of deep boned flesh.
I am still the prisoner,
trying to get away.
Perhaps you are the same,
and that being the reason
why we have never met.
-----------------------------
030219B
-----------
I wake up reluctantly,
each morning,
wanting to look for a good time.
Night comes
and it is all the same
cover up.
Blocking the mind
to what never happened
in between.
It all seems cut down,
to being a non sequitur comment
between consciousness and death.
-----------------------
100219A
------------
It was a good idea,
but they peeled away your backing
and stuck you somewhere,
just because they could
and for the sadistic fun of it.
Another heavy dose of boredom,
apparently meant to cure you,
of any and all motivation.
Meant to distance you from everything
that you could ever really care about.
After all, you are stuck down tight,
with their words
scrawled across your face.
Something for everyone to read
and react to. Ha ha ha again.
----------------------------
180219A
------------
Bits of blue sky
crashing through windows
amid dissident clamour.
Crowds barged
along main streets,
past the flood gates.
Outpourings of shatter,
crumble of make believe
on cakewalk avenues.
Shuttered windows,
and barred doors,
staring vacant into space.
Too much damage,
and orders are being given,
to abandon ship.
It all goes down,
beneath a wild splash
of partisan contempt.
Someone made a killing,
and all you really know
is counting the casualties.
-------------------------------
020319A
-----------
It was that entirely false belief
as to being able to meet someone
that made us out going.
Something more to give up on,
despite being such slow learners
as to officially manipulated facts.
Red tape bureaucracies thriving,
exerting strangleholds,
in the wastelands of fat chance.
The choke hold condition,
of strangled urban arteries,
finding nowhere to go.
Nothing much left out there,
other than the drunk and stoned,
make believe lives.
Abandonment a human condition
staring into the emptiness
of exiled imagination.
Window shopping the void,
feeling closed up tight,
walking a tightrope of extinction.
Trying to go crazy,
in a hopelessly sprung trap
between the lines.
Failure peers across a shoulder,
laughing at over blown attempts
to find some escape.
The hamster in a treadmill
has a better chance,
if it runs fast enough.
--------------------------
020319B
-----------
Words come painfully slow now,
knowing you have no patience to listen,
and less inclination to think about any of it.
I have to sift through them all,
throwing away most of the meanings
that seem far too threatening.
There is so much now,
that I do not want to tell you,
in trying to say anything.
I am terrified of the possibilities
as to any slightest truth creeping in,
to spoil fragile lives.
So very much is breaking down,
everywhere around us,
turning into nothing other than evidence.
I know what it feels like,
when everything ends up broken,
with never any way to get over it.
You don't really care what it is,
that I might have been about,
and you care even less about the immediate.
I was afraid of that too,
but I had learned to expect it being that way,
knowing that most people do it.
You won't find me anywhere,
because I am too buried beneath it all,
where I was buried a long time ago.
Perhaps we should leave it at that,
not even making any attempt to continue
from where anything left off.
It might be better to cut it short,
leaving endless rationalizations to others,
as if that gives them something to do.
---------------------------------------------
020319C
-----------
I want out of your world.
Stop trying to force me to love it.
Stop blaming me,
as if I was the one who made it that way.
Stop telling me who I am,
what I should be doing,
and how I should be doing it.
You do not really know me
any different from a hole in the ground.
So you keep throwing things in,
wondering why it does not become full,
of whatever you are about.
I gather your false promises together
sorting them into various heaps.
It was not as if there was any choice
to being so blurred out,
that there is no recognition.
Reduced to an ink blot of existence,
in an endless smear campaign.
People always reading into everything
formally suggested wrong meanings.
Everything ends up over written,
as if you expect me to reflect only you.
I broke that mirror long ago,
too frustrated with how it distorted me,
to care about more bad luck.
If you actually had a face
I would want to slash it with the shards.
The only thing you ever helped me to,
was those repeat performances
of variously contrived miserable endings.
Was that meant to teach me my place ?
You always wanted for me,
the opposite of anything I wanted,
proving tyranny is your idea of freedom.
You never really ask,
unless you intend to deny a last request,
from what is already a corpse,
being consumed by implanted desires
that keep gnawing away at any shred
of the tiniest hope of a chance,
and nothing is ever resolved.
It still feels as if nuclear winter,
season of sliding in any direction,
only to fall for a blanked out moment
on the verge of breaking through that ice.
Leaves a night sweat of dread pooled
hypothermia chilled out mind
kept from any tolerable bargains.
Pushed at, prodded, and shoved at,
into a condition of persistent distaste
as to what you tend to refer to as options.
None of them appearing options to me.
Damage control has fled the vessel,
and the failures at mitigation
have frightened away the lawyers.
Three decades of looking,
and all you do is interfere with finding.
It holds me down against cold ground,
no further ahead, and forever reminded,
amid being accused of not wanting
anything you want me to want,
that you forced those others to want.
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