Wednesday, August 26, 2015


Misconceptions about the things that kill you

severing the hand that corrodes the birthmarks assimilating atomic bombs

No alarms 

no crying 

no languishing

no stars

I’m pretty committed to tragedy happening to me

but this will not be what kills me

that

may

when

where

how

why

now

instant

shocking

compelling

activating

impending prism

Do I miss you or who I thought you were

How do I believe when that has never transpired to whatever I needed or desired

Listen

I can tolerate standing on one leg blindfolded carrying easily the disappointments and bad memories, I memorized them like the back of the unmarked veins on the roads that course through my hands that I used to not hesitate scarring 
what possibilities and dreams that could have been is what haunts me
not that these things would have come to be what I was hoping but the relic that I once allowed such hope to take ahold and it still has never let me go
death is the fissure that aligns us all like birds suspended to be detonated assembled in a row
torpedoed 
it reminds me there is no escape
maybe I do not long for one
maybe we don’t connect in the real world that we merely intrigued one another that we were lonely but we were not meant to be anything more then a passing chapter before we get back on line to whatever fates we have awaiting, it doesn’t seem we have the same ticket it would be comforting but I know life does not offer such comfort 
I don’t trust comfort
Loneliness and sadness that’s what I count on
I realized I wanted to expect more out of life but I don’t have trust that that is what will happen
not that I am doomed but there is not much else to expect
But how long can I live with that?
I don’t want to live with hope but how can I live without it?
I try to abandon hope but I feel it will never let me go no matter how small it withers even to a seed
a speck 
an atom
I wonder what will kill me
I wonder if it will be all at once
or one by one carefully
methodically
some restraint 
some mercy
I can’t count on that
I will try to live without hope
but I believe hope’s seed no matter how far I travel how much I abandon whatever new tragedies befall me
how much I pretend it doesn’t count
I am not as brave as I once hoped I was
maybe I no longer wish to be just brave
I wonder what will kill me
I wonder if it will be all at once
or one by one carefully
methodically
some restraint 
some mercy
I can’t count on that
what possibilities and dreams that could have been is what haunts me
not that these things would have come to be what I was hoping but the relic that I once allowed such hope to take ahold 
it still has never let me go
death is the fissure that aligns us all like birds suspended to be detonated assembled in a row
torpedoed 
it reminds me there is no escape
maybe I no longer pine for one
however long I cry and agonize 
I have endured and on and on
I will continue to reconcile that this has long ago been implemented before I was born
hope will never let me go

maybe I no longer aspire it to