Undulate

Back and forth.
And back and forth again.
I kept falling in between this dream of a better place. Not perfection, per say, but somewhere where the dirt under my fingernails didn't become an unwanted daily routine. Oh ho, this place wouldn't have to be perfect, but it would also be all relative. A place where the chorus of angels would be heard outside my window everyday as the sun gently touched my face and left soft shadows on yours. Where every shade was a highlight and every smile was another day gone. I would keep trying to open my eyes to convince myself that this was real and you would keep laughing at my attempt. Your face would scrunch and I would drown in the sheets.

Back and forth.

But instead of cotton, I wake up to concrete and mud dried on my face. My ridiculous attempt at survival is a tidbit of comedy to the public. The vehement expression on my face wiped all smiles and crashed all shadows. Any window would be lucky to be whole when the sun poisoned its delicate construction and whatever hid behind it. I couldn't breathe but it was like my prayers were answered. In those few lifeless moments, I was back where I though I belonged. I was someplace just outside of home. The mud left a crust on my cheeks, but I was in no rush to brush it off. Let them think what they think. Let them see this dirt on my face and run to conclusions while their feet carry them faster than they know. They're there before they left, and their left is left for dead. They drag themselves along for the right of way only to die in a frenetic mess on the trashed concrete.

I stood up.

I looked towards the door, hoping to make a break for it. I shouldn't have stood up so fast. My blood liked where it was, resting and catching its breath. I stood there with my legs slightly apart, head in a daze, not sure which way to run. Not enough strength to jump to conclusions here. I didn't know where everyone was located or whether or not they were already on me. My jacket hung on me in drapes as I stumbled forward.

Mistake.

I continued to stumble and ended up exactly where I started. The laughter started to chime in again, and I fell back into that dream land with mud baked to my face. I closed my eyes in the most natural way possible, as if this is what they were made for all along. A window shade on this horrible world. Sudden shocks would jolt them open and make me remember. Open, then closed. Open again. Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Desmond

I believe in the Lord and I believe in Christ,
But I don't believe in the sacrifice
I play all day and I pray all night,
for that one right one track mind.

I hold onto myself and I hold on to the world
I hold on until the truth unfolds.
I cry my eyes and I satisfy,
for that one right one track mind.

I grasp my reality and my demise,
but I lose the grip that's on my vice
I dream all day of the cold, dark night,
for that one right one track mind.

I drown under this, the bloody fingerprints,
but I keep afloat on empty presence
I scream all day into the shallow night,
for that one right one track mind.

I lack my inspiration.
Taken by desperation.
I've lost motivation
Therefore communication.

I've got one right shot left
at whatever one track mind is left

Therapeutic Murmurs

Your right breast is forever
carved into my chest
As my heart beats faster
The thumps continuous

Is it scarier to feel it
pounding in your deafened ears or
For it to gently tap
against the lining of your rib cage?

I feel as though I've lost it, lost cause
Slipped through like I subconsciously wanted

One and, Two and, Three and, Four and.

Where's my sympathy?
Down with the fever free
Where's my victory?
Down with the damp beats

Farewell

Sunglasses and leather jackets
Running what I used to call my streets
The best scene, you and me
Where did all the time go?

Who am I, but just a guy
To waste the minutes away with?
Am I the same one I had in mind?
The same one locked in distress?

I'd hoped to find relief in the scarred wooden floors,
Discussing where we were heading tomorrow and how far.
Artificially pumping up our life span with our static
Creating our night sky pollution like a futuristic attic.

I'd say goodbye but
you'd just want me home anyway

Loose Strings

"Quick now, Timmy, we have to get to the store before they run out of everything."

Her hands gripped tighter on his mittens.

"What are we getting, Mommy?" he asked.
"We're just getting presents for Christmas."

His eyes were watering from the harsh winds.
The big poofy coat and scarf he had on wouldn't let him walk straight.
He had to waddle and it made it hard to keep up.

"Do you want me to carry you, Timmy?"
"No Mommy, I can do it all by myself!"

The snow picked up and pushed the two back every time they chose to step forward.

"Mommy, can we go home? It's too cold! Brrr!"
"We can't go home until we get presents. I don't want to disappoint anyone."

Suddenly, the sound of an ocean came from around the building. He was confused because he knew there were no oceans in the middle of a city. Then a parade of people with determined faces almost ran the parent and child over.

"What's the meaning of this? Why is everyone running this way?" His mommy shouted.
"There's a sale at the other end of town! Fifty percent of anything when you buy three of something!" a shopper told her.
"You don't have to push me and my poor child around for a stupid sale. Come on Timmy, let's get out of here before more unpolite citizens come this way."

That's what he thought she said, but he couldn't be sure because the parade of people had taken him away. He was lost in their legs and many bags of shoes and other stuff. He finally managed to get out, but didn't know where he was. He was in the middle of an alleyway between a red building and an orange building, which would seem cheery until the initial shock wore off. It smelled like wet newspapers, fresh from the crowd. Even though he was scared to be away from his mommy, he decided to walk down the alleyway.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he yelled.
"Jane! Jane!" He yelled out her first name because he figured out that a lot of people have mommies and she might be confused.

The floor of the alley was littered with murky puddles even though it hadn't rained in forever. It was snowing though. At least the red and orange buildings would keep the wind down.

All of a sudden, an old man in a suit jacket and lab coat ran by the boy, just like the crowd.

"Quick son! Take this and hide!"
"What do I do wi-"
"Just read the front!"

He was gone just as fast as he had came. He handed the boy a wrapped package covered in faded yellow paper and a string holding everything in place.

More footsteps came splashing in the slush on the sidewalk so the boy hid behind the dumpster. Three men in black suits and sunglasses ran by, but they were gone too.

Timmy looked down at the box and flipped it around to look at the front:

"Do not open until 2010".

He'll find out in seven years.

---

12/7/08 5:13 PM

Reflection

I've got a monster in my closet
and it's attacking my skeletons
It's tearing up my unfinished business
and ripping up my socks and untold wishes

It's keeping me awake at night
Creaking the door open so slightly
Watching my chest move up and down
and tiptoeing so very lightly

I'm afraid for my wardrobe
And my perfect disguise
I don't want anyone to know
That I'd be naked otherwise

Here he comes,
scratching up the hardwood
I can see the fear in his eyes
Snarling and drooling perfect lies

Before I knew it, I threw a fist
In the fury of a masochist
Leaving glass pieces on the ground
Now that mirror is gone
And that monster won't be around

Sweet Dreams

It's safe to say
it's all the same
and there's no change
for a while

It's been you and me
and apathy
daring to turn the dial

Am I the victim of a limit?
Or a heatsink of self hatred?
Must I always see your face
When I lay down in my warm bed?

I'm still a little high on
what I had to say
11 AM fumes
are headed my way

This is where I fall apart
Inches before the finish line
Can't pick myself up again
and it's alright

Now see me drift to sleep
of hazy dreams
lined up in single file

Jump start my heart
it's hard
It's more junk on the pile.

Am I the victim of a limit?
Or a heatsink of self hatred?
Must I always see your face
When I lay down in my warm bed?