A reading of my poem, In(Re)trospect, is up over at Poetry Performed. Please click the link to give it, and other poems, a listen!
Thank you, again, to A. S. Freeman for connecting with my writing and wanting to read it aloud.
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Tag: Poet
Seeking Sincerity
Seeking sincerity has become
such a chore.
To accept
mediocrity has its own
attraction.
Optimism begins to fester and
slowly rots
until it becomes a
physical weight
in my chest.
Suffocating.
We drown ourselves in
cliches until they
leak through our pores and
create a sheen
of self-deception
Restart. Reset.
Overandoverandoverandoverandover
again.
Expect disappointment and rebound quickly;
no longer assets, but necessities.
We try to convince ourselves
this time will be
different, but
how long until
depleting reserves of potential
and possibility
run out?
How can I decide the
amount of time to
spend searching when
I’m told by
almost everyone
that I’ll find something when I least expect to.
Something;
someone.
This is all
counter-intuitive
when every success story both
emboldens and makes me
question what it is
exactly
that I’m doing wrong.
How many times must I be lied to?
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
“I’m just not ready for a relationship.”
“You’re so great, but…”
Is there some sort of conspiracy
that they’ve all agreed to play the game?
To see if I’ll
chase? If only it
were that easy.
How long before they
begin blending into variations of
the same carbon copies? The same
university-branded drinking photos, the same
vacation spots, the same
pursed beaks, flexing facades.
How long until they start
to run together and I start
to wonder if there is
anyone
worth getting to know?
Plastic permutations of
the same theme; a blueprint
with minor tweaks that
don’t improve,
just diversify
Soon I parse out and
MAGNIFY
parts of my personality to
try and find some common ground
to make things work;
only when things fall through do
I realize how
unimportant they are and that
I was only injecting air to
fluff them up.
The temptation that maybe
this time will be different, maybe
I will finally
break through
if I stay here a little longer.
But after five years of
disappointment, why would now be any
different?
Over-analyze every aspect.
Was I too interested?
Not interested enough?
Did I talk too much? Too little?
Did I focus too much on
one topic of conversation?
Am I too shallow?
Was there something I
fixated on
in her appearance that
I didn’t like at first
so that’s all I could see,
which in turn soured me?
How much is
my fault?
Is that even worth asking?
All of it.
Why does it seem to be
so easy
for others?
I know I don’t see the whole story,
but
I can’t help but wonder.
I see and
feel and
know
my worth;
why can’t they?
Love Songs
They exist in
a contradictory courtship
between the abstract and
specific.
Proclamations attesting to
the Divine
nature of love.
Laments of
time lost. Shrieks
of regret and
betrayal grating at
the worth of it all
How many were written
in hopes of gaining? How many
were
premature?
Which describe
the actuality?
What if they’re all just
pleas
for what can never
truly be?
Are they love songs,
or just songs about love?
A Miserable Creature
(A Plea)
There is a creature
that isn’t quite
alive.
Rather,
It simply seeks to
survive,
thriving on what It believes
is owed.
Taking an
emotional tithe and
fabricating frightening fantasies of
intimacy
and growth.
Its hosts can’t
blame
others for
choosing to
live their lives without
It;
but that doesn’t mean they
enjoy It either.
It slithers from
one to the
next; imprinting Its
ideals and
wants and
needs
onto subjects undeserving of
such psychotic symptoms.
It is envious
and apathetic
all at once.
At Its most microscopic, It is not
made of cells, but
interlinked insecurities.
Its very
presence is
paralyzing
and warrants
nothing
but the
destruction of its
desolate form.
(A Dismissal)
But It is necessary for
the protection of one’s
heart.
It seeks to procure for
Its host
in the least selfish way
possible.
It is self-aware,
knowing Its beneficent nature and
sarcastic sadism.
(An agreement)
There is a creature
whose only goal is to
feed on the happiness
of others, and this time
It wins.
The Inkheart’s Prayer
I am enamored with the aspects
you choose to share. Such beauty transcends your
physical glory and
what you believe to be the
flaws of your mind.
Who am I to place the ideal of
my fascination
upon you?
Why should you carry this burden?
I see what you want the world to know, but seek
that which you would hide.
I know myself;
if I could only beg the same from this
Aphrodite who
mirrors your steps.
Haunts my dreams.
Your struggles,
your triumphs, your plans
and regrets
would be a nourishing nectar.
Would that I could do the same
for you. Be the same
for you. Prostrate myself
For You.
I am at a loss, yet cannot cease blabbering in the radiance
of your complexity; the glory
of your authenticity.
Be a balm for the lonely hearts; always.
Know that you brought this man to
slit his wrists and pour forth a
Prayer
in Ink.
