Narcissus would love this age
And its high-resolution photography
He would plaster his Facebook page
With his beautiful face for all to see.
And he would allow followers
But never accept friends,
Though the pool is ever shallow,
He would stare until the end
At his albums of his images
And post his every vanity
Always staring, but never seeing
The essence of his insanity.
Category Archives: Pallor
Add Media
Longhand
Spit out something new,
Something you have spewed
In the same old terms.
The linguistic squirm
Fidgets from thought to thought
Nothing is as fresh as it ought
But each day is a new footstep forward
We all move away, we all move toward
We’re all becoming what we rehearse
For better or for worse.
The Shadows of Time
Darkness stands above me,
A black clock-tower, and the face
Of the moon is handless
Counting by months, by days,
While my feet are ticking, ticking
Along the ground beneath,
And all the time that I tap out
Is time that I bequeath.
Lament
Oh for these wasted, mortal senses
To perceive so much, but little understand
Filling the thoughts, the soul, but hence is
Emptied as an ocean poured in open hands
We wander each through his own field
We gather, we gather, but do not bake
With all our toiling, what do we yield?
With all we have, what do we make?
Betrayed
You, my usual haven in dream,
Came rushing in after your brood
Speaking sharp words, like breaking sticks
Like shattering my childlike mood.
Now, when I’m already weak
And the thing that lives inside my brain
Crawls and chews and leaves
A tunnel system of pain
Why, when I have stayed loyal
Swimming against the tide,
Why do you stand against me
Withholding kindness already denied
Just to cast me aside?
Calling on You
I stare beyond civility with closed eyes
Because the dancing flickers of light wound them
I chase you free through sticky grass fields
The air is clean and does not yet burn my chest
We run to where the storm loomed
I see you kneel;
This is the moment I learned your secret.
And I return after you have gone to
Wander through the smell of rain on hyacinth
Slowly, now my lungs are wrong and the air’s so thick,
But I find your abandoned crevice of hidden treasures
And now I kneel.
The sun is gone adventuring when I get home
My sweater is shrunk and stuck to my skin
I’m in bed three days with fever and sweat and dreams
Sitting on my chest and taunting me,
But I have been out to see you again
At the place I know you will always be.
Migraines
Sick, so sick my ears ring out,
“It comes again! It comes again!”
It builds a nest inside my head,
My eyes grow dim, my eyes grow dim,
It pecks for pieces of my thoughts,
My memories, my hopes, my sin
To make its bed, to make its bed,
It settles in. It migrates when
My blood runs flush
And burns my skin, my fevered skin
Helps hatch it’s brood, then
I get sick
So sick again.
Windbent Wonder
Black branches stretch your limbs
Before the sore and swell of time
Ages you against the wind,
Against the bend that shapes these crimes.
Blackest limbs, embrace the sky
Before growing in the crevice
Of fiercest pressures to bow or die
And forget the flowing heavens
Somewhere above your crooked frame
Take one last look at flaming stars,
Before the wind has made you tame,
And you’ve forgotten who you are.
‘Til Death Did We Part
Grounded,
And it would be so sweet,
But for your final resting place
Tossed somewhere far from me.
Grounded,
And the dirt that is my keep,
Would sit so soft upon my skin,
If we could share this sleep.
The Abject of My Affections
I can’t explain the cloud.
It doesn’t bring me down,
But it threatens a little rain
And I’m over-sensitive to pain
So when I feel the sky turning gray
I swim upstream all day
Afraid to see what’s downstream,
Another tumbling waterfall, the gleam
Of another cruel hook,
So I bite by the bullet by the book
And close my eyes, and repeat
It’s all just a dream, there’s no defeat
If I just keep standing.
No running, leaping, landing
On my feet is needed;
If I stand still I have succeeded.
viewingcamelot 