This is What it Feels Like


Time flies like a broken arrow. Magpies pecking for secrets in the soil, my story crawls lonely in the shade. It hides beneath her pretty little dress. Sun dyed hair blowing in the wind, there’s just no telling where my mind will drift to today. Each layer of what we call living exhumed, there’s no stopping my taste for lost avenues sprinkled with regret. Alcohol and cigarettes as leaves fall like headless torsos. War as you soak in the bath. Murder, rape and genocide as you decided which mask should be worn over the next. These stupid charades. These pointless games that serve no meaning. Life and death in the blink of an eye as we battle over burnt toast. Love exchanged for lifeless encounters with strangers. Tell yourself it’s okay why don’t you, but the desolation that rages in your heart is clear to see. Wastelands in your belly where life once grew. It can grow again, but it’s just a pale imitation of lost beauty. Church bells on a Sunday afternoon. Flowers reaching up through the weeds. We let them grow without even knowing. Trapped in vines of lies, there’s no sense in hiding in plain sight.

Idiot man. Passive fool. Deranged like homeless junkies looking for a fix of something good. Royal blood on whiter than white panties. Holy like worship. As cheap as your willing to go. Pull my teeth out but don’t touch my soul. Cut me off from everyone, it doesn’t mean a thing. I’ve been lost in my head for years. No sense in wandering what if. No need to argue what could have been. There’s only this present moment. It should be praised yet it seldom is. The fragility of our fleeting presence never held in high esteem. We’re only missed when we’re gone. Only cherished when we don’t have the ability to talk back. The world loves a mute lover. It clings to them with blind indifference. Preach conformity. Abide by it as if the stars needed it to stay in the sky. They won’t be falling down any time soon but keep up the act all the same. Remember the words. Remember the touch. Ghosts in place of shadows. The mystery of human compulsion. It takes over then withdraws for the tiniest amounts of time. It’s in our design. It’s in the way we collide. So many places and moments gone, never to be seen again. Such a fragile way of being. Such an insignificant passage. Shells crumble. They dissolve in beds of dreams. Don’t let them take me. Don’t let them bury me, not just yet.

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