I’ve run dry of tears tonight
   I think that may be my oversight
        But I can tell when the gaslight
                                                   is on
 & No I’m not feeling very strong
             my message is brooding
                  I have to remind myself to keep

In and out in and out just keep filtering
      Oxygen ignore the choking sounds
       I’m trying I’m still trying even to me it’s
               Even when it’s mouthed
               & I know the voice in your heart
                Like the tremor in mine
                is keeping time with these words
                          but lately they’re all I’ve got

           I’m not watching clocks I’m not
         measuring time I’m not disciphering
   symbols in dreams because none apply
                              not to you or I or where
                              my creator may reside
       I wanted so bad to make an impact
         & I think I have so why can’t I
                  abandon my post and say

                 I’m not used to it, I rarely do it
                            There’s so much blood
                        on this metaphorical floor of
                                                  mine &
                     Maybe it was like this always

                      My world can be beautiful
               & tangible, dreamy and erased
                                  burst into flames
                     I need armor, I need weapons
                                    I need defacement
                                     or maybe it’s just so
                      simple it just comes down to
                                       an embrace


[Authors Note: inspired by In the House, In A Heartbeat by John Murphy]

No Formats

I step not back
             refuse to retreat
        & defy all manner
                     of shamed defeat
study [my demeanor] with lightless eyes
Know: I do not apologize
         and own a gratituitous amount
       of bemusement, myself
                  Truly I would never wish
                          to be someone else but
During the night I do ponder
  of the workings of clocks…
    & the possibility pieces
                     of time machines
   Which piece means what thing?
        Is that what I hear chiming?
            If I tell you that this is not real
         This world is a mastercrafted
                          well play-acted stage
                 & we are all connected
       Would you believe me?
Or crestfall from a neon building?
                   Would all your beaches
                                    have gently sparkling
                             ink black sand?
             Would we find a piece of you
                          buried there?
                     Would you find me/would you
                               Meet me____ there?
                         LOADING.. .. ..