Framed (day 1898)

Framed, I calculated an unnerving amount of resistance that spread like wildfire into Westward directions, of which of course I had no control over yet still tried to impart my wisdom and hence strength into the combined force of what I could not really understand.

So from A to B related my conceptualized compassion that hadn’t yet fully been realized, described as it may have been impartial as it was, was released into the atmosphere that concluded the segmented destruction I had begun at once, since I was always hanging around at the door.

Did you mean it?

I, for one, hadn’t lied since the conceptualized rhythm had taken hold of my toes and left me writhing aimlessly upon the cold, hard floor encircling my conceptualizing and leaving faint ellipses of my heated innards, heated imprints of smudging recollection slowly evaporating.

Yet you. You. You you you you you! You hadn’t had a word of truth since your mother siphoned ink drops from your stained fingers to extract what viciously romantic letters you had sent to the tightrope walker of your dreams. How could you remember such blithe moments of innocent lust, only scattered in pajama pants of a sleep-over with two bottles of soda pop rattling against nevermore.

So I thought my captain’s hat was an excellent choice to begin my journey with. I thought my heart had a marvelous lagoon illuminated by fireflicking effervescence – like lightening bolts for my neurons jitterbugging their way past each other in such a hurry A to B, A to B, A to B to one two three for I am lost in the conceptualized space of lighting bolts upon the cold tiles of this broken bathroom’s shore.

Framed, I left no remark, no emblem, no Saturday night band-aid to recollect seashells from the forest floor – blown. No deafening roar lifting up my coattails I had left begging at the door. No satin sheets too stained for use and frayed at the edges in bad need of delicate iron’s pour. No guilt nicely crumpled up inside a warm cocoon, marsupial, canonized, capitalized, heavenly guilt-free and framed, alone with torment.

All the Same (day 1709)

Holes into nothing
And this is where I end.
Dropping as I awaken,
Say it again,
I didn’t hear you all the same.

And if I wake up
I am left to break up.
Minor chord progressions,
Like my heart,
It is the same song all the same.

Footsteps into distance
As my heart beats into resistance,
Does music still go on?
Is there an echo,
After all, it’s my memory all the same.