Sunday, July 27, 2014

mixture

faces
swim before me
after me
beneath me

so deeply desiring one
to swim with me

red lights
soft blinking lights

How do we get here
with thumping ceilings
and nights that are longer
than
non-poetic long things

I don't have poetry.  I have fear
I have this anger that I am alone
which has blended into a broken
heart.  A broken soul.  A broken being
and all I want is something not.

hands to hold me up
are everywhere
hands to help keep me moving
alive
hoping
guiding

but
there
is
no
real hand
no shoulder
nothing.

Nothing but my power
push
help
hope

And that means
my fears
concerns
short comings
confusion
loneliness

There's no time
to count to three
no counting at all

just try
or maybe
count fast

either way, for my love, I will
dive in
and never stop trying.