They tried to change me
But with time everything changes
Except the photos, they always stay the same
Like a fishplate, now I've digested the truth
The radio is never answered here
The thoughts I can barely remember
Which slip like time from my grasp
Are slowly coming back to me
Manipulated mirror images twist into reasons
Sewn into the nucleus of my existence
It's the hardest pill to swallow
When I'm scared of letting things go
It feels like I've been cut with a thunderbolt
Sometimes I wish I didn't have to think
Sometimes I wish I didn't know
Poems do not burn, but poems breathe
They are cracking through the common purview
The ratio between them is hyphenated
And the drugs seem gooseberry at this point
Life is a sport, another gymkhana
I am sleeping with the body of a dead person
A fissure in the mountain
Failing to do our duties in a pompous galaxy
Before we could ever know
Renegades have dropped like fallen stars
It's a kind gesture, birthed from the colossal pain
A lurkspur lines the neck of my bladder
And acts like a wandering chef
I was told
A bellybutton's initiative is never to be ignored
But I am one that ignores even the most imperative pains
I thought the violin would play tides in my veins
The day burned to ashes
The detumescence caused an autobahn
I got caught in the traffic, the returning critic
Numb like I've never been before
I suspected the belief has been portrayed
On the maggot-infested sanctuary
In my wet dreams
In my dreams of getting laid
The mirror is a gorgon
It looks back at me and it eats me
It gulps me down and it shreds
Every flaw and tear I shed
Now I'm a piano in my head
I can't help but niggle in rapport
When I'm sore I water the lily in my heart
In my dark night sky
I dream of your deep set ovals
I could never forget the moments we shared
How my guts spilled everywhere
I love you more than I could ever do
Although I don't say it, I seem to be frozen
When I try to utter, "Ich liebe dich"
As if something happened along the way
Which made me stop, which made me unable to
When I lost you in that wild rose garden
In the idyllic temple of a forest
I keep my darkest secrets and store my fondest memories
In the place where I grew up believing in monsters
I spread myself thin like violet ink
I go back there often When the winter sun is shining like a million diamonds
Cut in half, glistening like raindrops in puddles
Wishing it could always be perfect
The apple rots
Everything changes, but the photo stays the same
The photo stays the same
Reminding me that life is beautiful in every way
The chalk of your golden breath warms my ache
Reminding me that life is beautiful in every way
The photo stays the same
In your eyes stars beam
The past is a faint sparkle
Harvest in the meadow
Not once have I mentioned it
But I think about you fucking me
Fucking my clouds for brains
Causing a semantic change
An inner rebellion
I move with the shift
Tried to fit back into my body
Feeling unloved like a book on a shelf
Beached like a whale, like a celestial shadow
The perfect moment to die blossomed
Sculpted out of our earth
The life pour is vital
Ringing in the deaf ear
With white powder on the nose
White powder on the banknotes
I pulled the hull off the strawberry
Sang for my eternal muse
Breathing in the forever sunlight
The crisp morning air, crisp like dried sunflowers
In a cataract of tears, in my ignorant ways
In a pool of desires I promenade
Red like intestines, red with an infection
Red with a shower of thoughts
I traced along the line
Looked in the souls of fools
Creamy with wick
I couldn't bare it any longer
So I turned to the hills of wonder
Dreamed someone stole my dreams
It was a pink-fleshed, elaborate moon thief
Drinking from the petals
I fell at the mud at your feet
Ready to suck your cock
Waves of water licked the salt of my arm
Swayed back and forth like the hum of submission
Mirroring the intolerant facade I bring
On the banks of something rather incomplete
A lingering scent hangs under the nostrils
I remember it well, like those days when i was a child
The dull repetition
Coming home to nothing
I turned over, closed my eyes, went to sleep
Who I was and who I am are mere reflections of the person
I'm destined to meet
Two separate entities in the one body coexisting
Jockeying for position
I seen my father and his cold lips
Dressed as a ghost, blind to my eyes
As if I were second hand smoke
As if I was never born
Being punished for who I am.
-
Author:
Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 19th, 2020 19:00
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 50
Offline)
Comments1
A great wide-ranging epic with fine details, thanks for sharing this poem that brings to my mind a tension between tease and torment. I can attest to poems burning if, in a fit of madness, you set fire to your notebooks..
Thank you for your kind words. I'd never know what it's like to burn a poem because I've never done so, and I couldn't imagine it either. I seem to get attached easily, even to the ones I'm not necessarily proud of, or embarrassed by, or think aren't anything worthy. I like to keep my writings so I can look back at a later date and see my growth as a poet, and like I said in the poem, I'm scared of letting things go, which also applies to my work, but I probably should have said my poems don't burn, but they breathe, instead, to be more specific and personal.
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