Insomnia

how long does it take?
a million thoughts per second
I have only to grasp but one
and make it stick
but this delusional misery
makes me different
and silences the norm

to shadow someone
I choke at the thought
my independent sea
took many years to fill
and I don’t know how to swim but there
I’ve become nocturnal
and my body now frightens easily
I’m choking again

I cannot fathom why
and every day people ask
I laugh but I’m scared

it’s a lovely thing to have dreams
yet I avoid sleep
so as not to have them end

I swear to me it’s dark as dust
and just as mystical

Copyright L.M. 2007.

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Mud (December 2006)

who would have known?
back to the drawing board…..

rain surrounding
a puddle of mud
where I lay
helplessly shamed
melancholic and merciless
I tie these beams
strength in hands only
unaware of hope
open to nothing
I’m not well
and I sang too much

under me lies ground
unfamiliar and true
the incubated sadness gutting me
sidles up and winks
such a jerk
and buries me in splashes
as he passes me
slamming fists in the mud

Copyright L.M. 2006.

Le Départ/The Departure (April 2007)

Le Départ

il ne prend pas beaucoup
assis sur le bord d’un rien
la valeur me dit
“ne t’inquiètes pas
il en reste assez”
mais je sais déjà
je sais

je n’étais ni le tout
ni la seule
alors je suis

avant le départ du jour
je vois du monde
assis sur mon bord
mais il n’en reste plus
et j’entends
un soupir éternel qui me dit
c’est encore assez
oui, ça je sais

The Departure

it doesn’t take much
sitting on the edge of a nothing
worth tells me
“don’t worry
there is still enough”
but I know already
I know

I was neither the all
nor the only
and so I am

before the passing of the day
I see people
sitting on my ledge
but nothing remains
and I hear
an eternal sigh that tells me
it is still enough
yes, that I know

Copyright L.M. 2oo7.

Proximity

dusty
stinging burns the dry
pulling tight today
trying to set it up
and I look ridiculous
could you believe
it’s about time
she’s asking me
to make another appearance
shocking though it may be
it’s part of my defense now

a line upon my bottom lip
shaking from frustration
would you believe me
if I couldn’t be happier
since daily death leads fresh
to daily rebirth
and nothing’s more precious
than that sound of life
that view of life
this taste of life

a smell of deception
foul to the touch
with acrid hints
designs a fate:
much greater, hollow
like within a cave
where the echo
resounds its wave

mindful of a gilded hue
rosy-themed and crackling
sharpened wit adorns my view
stands alone attacking
saddled, ridden, oh the ride
blinds me now to take my eyes
sit atop the highest fence
and toss me down our common cents

Finished: 3:32 p.m., Wednesday, December 12th, 2007. (c.p.t., t.b.a.; a few edits finished around 3:46 p.m., same day.).

Stalemate

I have a sight
I thought somewhere near
takes me a while to
to…..
well I should have lost it
perhaps
maybe
somehow
did
inside it burns
and I shiver
you know it’s cold
so very cold

I’m not hopeless
just delusional
apparently
and to make up
for all the lost time
somehow started
to believe in fairytales
masochistic? probably
I’ve heard it heals
or bides time
with other distraction
sort of like me
I guess that’s ironic
but really, not hopeless
that’s part problem
you see why
it’s the hope that kills
if I were numb
oh to be numb
I would lose fear
I would lose pain
I would lose anger
I would lose love
well, you’ve taught me
you can’t win them all
in my year of luck
my precious months
a troubled match
a frightened soul
helped onto my plate
peppered with perfection
here and there
and when that bell begins
I will be a mistake
and another chapter
in a drama
whose clout extends
far beyond
the amusing present time

I’m sleepless
and you know why
and you won’t tell me

I’m walking the lines
with chains around my neck
ball bearings in my throat
and hands behind my back
and I say “I’m starved”
and you say you’re tired
but give me food
that I can’t eat, smell, see
and say it ought to be enough
but death takes its toll
bending all rules
portraying life as such
well you feel remorse
but upon the next
bestow a fresh nothing
ready to be devoured
and kill another
just like before me
me
and after me

I’m still sleepless
could you tell me why?

I did have a dream though
yes I had to wake you up
you transformed
into the jerk
and I couldn’t get you to leave
I awoke frightened
with the door open

do you realize
character and honesty
can both be judged
by ignoring words altogether
and looking
solely
on what you do

so in this pretend world
this fantasy of yours
some things bleed
into mine
and I try to see
subtract the you
subtract the me
to look right through
to reality
but look at me
I play the fool
I’m just the tool
to set you free
of memory
of any need
of honesty
responsibility
respectability
honour, value
worth, and truth
you see, all these
I could be for you
but that fantasy
well it bleeds too
into one which you
have saved for me
I still can’t sleep
and I blame you

Copyright L.M. 2007.

Station

I couldn’t stretch it
it began furtively
the weasel of a creature
stitching disaster with a golden flare
dancing brushstrokes in the air
stepping lightly
flooding slow
a prick to welcome
boring deep within
each layer, each flaking level
it could be cruel
but I’m sure this isn’t new
I know the tracks
and paint the country with pleasure
still be the train, upon them all
useless and crumbling
but ever so mighty
bending light with each day
crowding this heaven-sent boundary
to a cradle beneath
somehow immersed in everything
so carbon me
make me realistic
drawn and painted and sung
compose me your morals
stand with posture perfect
gripping ledges
haphazard leaping
and suddenly —
you see it too

so change it all, and harbour no chain
abandon weight, for I can help you fly

   

      

Finished: 8:28 a.m., Wednesday, December 5th, 2007.

The Impossible Point

Philosophy came early to me; I guess I always used to think a lot.  When it came time to sharpen my pencil, I’d often stare at the sharpest tip I could make, and realize how it was still rounded.  That’s when I came up with my Impossible Point idea.  Of course, it wasn’t new, and it certainly wasn’t Earth-shattering.  But it was at an early age, and without outside influence.  I just thought a lot.  I’d try to tell my friends (the ones who thought for themselves) and they would argue that no, I just wasn’t sharpening it enough.  They didn’t get it.

It was through those eyes that I realized how things aren’t always as they seem; when under a magnifying glass, everything changes.  Or, sometimes, it’s the exact opposite.  Sometimes, when looking too hard, when focusing too much on something near, you miss the main picture — you entirely miss the point.

And it’s always important to see the point….. rounded or not.