Tag: breath

This is not Life (day 1290)

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What are these breaths of terror streets?
What bringeth this indescribable blabble?
Shall it speak for all of my soul: truths,
Or shall mystery shroud over, unspoken?

Un-mystery my salad meats, for I am becometh origin.
Controlling dreams in an undecided, unclad barbaric soul.
Feeding on these terror streets.
And here I yell: “Let these snakes regain territory!”

I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.

This is not life.

Of End (day 1250)

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My future is not to what end,
My future is of end that lacks in clarity.
For there shall be no tide
That leaves me jiggling in madness,
Clutching at the newly spent sands
Gathering about my consciousness.
Nor shall there be a whirlwind epoch
That holds in my madness
To set aside future battles
That crawl about my fingers
And draw my breath to an abrupt halt.

Midnight Dancer (day 1188)

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A pull – this forever moment;
Yearning midnight moon.
To tie dangling laces around my neck
That drip about the floor
Tangling deepest desires – honey thick,
With unending silence
Echoing off my midnight grace.
I handle tip-toes with heaving breath,
Twirling dazedly in passion’s clutch
And remembering concert halls
Echoing my nothing butterflies,
Vibrant and fleeting
– My dancer’s death –
Upon well traced wooden floors
And my forever midnight moon.

model: Leiah Luz
model: Leiah Luz

Smokey Summer (day 1136)

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Smokey bandages flutter through the evening sky.
An autumn sun burns the day’s light
Through whiskey breath and campfire.
Cooling breeze shelters the afflicted from blackened breath,
Dire, sister, dire.
Animals have no home, foraging between un-agreed upon lines of human traffic.
Chain link fences only survive through this madness.

A Chance to Be Faculty and Chief (day 1119)

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A valley, like my mind, may look empty on the inside – void of all that makes up matter. Void of all the mass that builds houses and factories and city roads and flower gardens and traffic jams.

For cannot this still matter? I am lost in a wasted land, and the fight challenges my patience along grated edges of wisdom.

Do you hear the sharp bells ringing? Is this the difference that is ringing, or has freedom finally called my name?

The sheath shall sadly fall apart, ragged from too much use like a cocktail napkin at a lipstick party. History shall not scream loudly here. This is not the bitter pages of a non-fiction picture book.

Here we have wrinkled tin garbage cans rolling lifelessly along unkempt lawns of former princes’, former glory holes that believed in a dream. A lifeless dream built on waste management systems and recycling plans.

So I cannot spoil my food anymore. My valley – running deep – is the chance to be faculty and chief. My valley is the early morning breath and the dying chances. My valley is the shortened season and the wilderness.

My valley is me, and I’ve begun to see.

Forgotten (day 1103)

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I know that I didn’t lose my answers
When I stepped off late at night.
When I closed the door and shifted sheets.
When I spoke my prayer dance to the moon.
When I laughed heartily
Allowing my soul to saturate
Every breath you exude.
Because this is my intake
And answers don’t get lost here
Where answers don’t get forgotten.

Sunken (day 1084)

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I’ve lost my ways, forgotten and tilted,
My wings, they’ve bent all up and wilted.
They’ve shook out wildly their last flutter,
Left me to scramble my eggs in butter.

I used to hold my whispers tightly
But now I’m lost forever, nightly.
And to my breath I speak not warmth
For long gone dark, my sunken hearth.

When gone I’d toil a long days work,
To make a home, to fill my fork.
Though since my leaf has been unsheathed
I’ve lost my will to hold, to breath.

I pray to come, a return of my memory
To overcome my being, my sensory.
But if I were to forget it all,
Would I ever wonder how?

Delirium (day 1067)

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I do not know where the rose petals fell;
Floating from my conscience as I lost sight of all.
Leaving an impression, like tail winds trickling
Into the evanescence of my breath.

But you who art sight! What cometh of thy history,
Lost into thy pool of still waters shaking.
I fell one warm, kind day – a moon’s length away,
Into the feelings of a warm blooded kiss.

My littered floorboards of mother natures spoil
Tickled my memory while I shook out my whiskers.
I laid there and laughed for the whiskey surged my sour,
And love settled down beside me, for I was delirious.