Under The Pressure

The age of you
Was a glimpse of beauty and change.
I didn't know how important it felt
To help you pick out the right boots,
When you were shopping and I was
Distracted by something,
Coincidentally reminding me of you,
So young.

I'm torn, but I really think I could've
Done a lot better. I linger on that,
And wonder what it would be like to
Hold you again as mine. The urge to
Steal a kiss is powerful, but I dismiss.
You do not want this. You do not wish
That I should linger on.

It doesn't matter, really. My feelings
Are mine, and I'll come to my own
Conclusions. I know there is going to be
A moment when I finally let you go.
I don't want to lose your perfect and
Beautifully disturbing nature.
You were founded by golden light,
Sequenced to a chance at perfect bliss.
So you lost some cards; me too.

We were always wanderers.
We stirred up every calm, because we
Love to explore. Bravery is traded;
We forgot that. We let our devils
Bring us down.
We were soaked by tidal floods
And we drowned.

Columbus

Somebody wrote a song for a girl,
And somebody sailed halfway
Across the world, but none of it makes
Any sense to me, any longer.

I like my toast dirty blonde,
And I like my coffee creamy and sweet.
I'd like the quiet without a head
That didn't always try to compete
With the fragmentary nature of memory.

Lost in a sea of vision. Everyone has
Some agenda. I float about useless.
I perform tasks, try new alphabets,
Decipher pure reason in the mundane.

I do not achieve much with no aim.

I make plays at what the heart is, and
The art of love but it's failing. It's simply
Two feet off the bed, brew the pot,
Calisthenics,
A little mindless toil.
A little reading, shower and dress.
Walk and listen,
Task, confirm, complete.
Home, whisky, read, think.
Leave,
Drink.
Sway, think, think, spatter,
Write, fumble.

And in the morning, before two feet down
I recollect such exchange,
And it is empty of meaning.
Communication disarray.
I think I lost sight of something,
Such that was the essence of my being.

Sex, lies, deceit...
Like everything I've got is
Some secret. Truth is:
I don't know a bit of truth
Most people don't already know.
Primal instinct turns me into
A nightmare of a man for that urge,
The one, that in many cases, has
Turned the world upside-down.

Behind every great action is a woman.

Lie to myself, I don't know this.
I don't know just how I became
This hungry thing of constant searching.
Burns deeper than any ember long after
The fire seems out.
My core is so persistent. Don't even know
How many lifetimes I've spent trying
To find that perfect, lovely thing.
Perfect is subjective, but I'm looking
For the counterpart
Who would choose a wreck like me
To whittle away the days with.

My subjective is love.

I'm so enthralled by the notion;
It's the only thing that quickens my heart.
I breach every day with a wish,

One where I might find
Comfort in the ending.

Copper

Copper in my pocket,
Three cents change from a lady
At some gas station in Lamar.
Spent the rest of the day forgetting.
Every time I return I just resurrect
All these last moments I love,
But try to ignore.
I'm working on a sequel here...
I'm trying to jump a step ahead,
And I just trip a bit in the stride;
Like I'm born to fall a bunch,
But dammit if I don't have the will
To forge ahead, stupid and strong.
I digress. All of this, all this crazy ride
That life places before you,
It's yours,
And not one
Can say different.
Be plain about your actions,
And solicit none of ambiguity.
With resolute measure
Resound all the longings of your heart.
Life is brief,
Might as well stop fucking around,
But feel the present,
And find relief.

For the next few months
The only question I'm going to ask
Of all I know and hold dear is:
"How can I help?"

What I wouldn't give for a cold beer
In this desolate atmosphere,
But back porched and lazy,
I submit to the resources around,
And slip long and easy into
An atmosphere of perpetual thought...