The Fall

Look at these walls. A brick and mortar prison holding ispiration behind its towering palisades. Darkness looming overhead, reaffirming there is no chance of escape. How long before the line between sanity and delusion is blurred to the point of obscurity? Are these walls real or has the weight of time laid each brick heavy outside the mind as we convince ourselves there is no liberation from this doleful morass? No matter how large you build your empire, always plan an escape. No matter how strong you build your kingdom, it will fall. No matter how loyal you think your army, they will turn on you. Every moment of doubt is a crack in the foundation. The ground will give way underfoot as you attempt retracing each step you took in the wrong direction. Don't look back as the dust storm chases you down. Run. Never glance at what you left behind as you rebuild. Carry on with the knowledge that it will happen again.

dm.

One For the Road

I'm hanging my hopes on the back of bar stools
Staring down the line and you're all that's on tap
Having a warm drink because I know we're on the rocks
Putting back memories like whiskey, I reminisce
Whenever I think I'm on the right track it skips
I'm like a bloodhound with no sense or scent
Trying so hard not to stumble over your words
I keep a straight face that you could always see through
Spilling secrets on the table but you're not flagged
You play your card and get out of it intact
One more midnight goodbye kiss and tell
Backseat drunk driving home into the dark
Nothing to prove but I've got your back
Lie down, lie up, black out and blew my chance.

dm

Equinox

Summer left without a sound, like a sheet of paper slid under a door; its farewell note penned by a cool breeze before sweeping away into the full moon night. Clouds slide slowly across an autumn sky as if they were curtains waiting to reveal the new season. With each footfall my spirits rise as the temperature falls. The soundtrack of new beginnings and old friends rings in my ears even after silence falls. My mood rides on the breeze that flows through my window and haphazardly tosses and turns me to sleep. There is a new day ahead but the path will be a battlefield of dreamscapes and lost hopes. It is still possible that the autumn can help heal the wounds from my fall.

dm

Note To Self

Spit it out.
Words you've swallowed so many times but can't produce at will. Using sentences as stilts to stand tall above all the others but never really growing up. You watch others fall without offering a hand and reach out for someone, anyone as you're going down. Embrace won't appear without a tie that binds. You flake and peel like an aging adhesive which can't hold on to anything at all.
Climbing wallpaper ladders as you lift yourself from slumber, your apathetic yawn paints your morning a dim shade of gray. Fix your posture and stumble from your dwelling, propelled by nothing more than an unmotivated sense of necessity. You must feed the beast which demands accomplishment, be it no more than a stroll under clouds which envelop any light above them.
You are that cloud. You take the light which others cast toward you and put it out. Extinguish it in yourself and in them. You darken each sunny day which friends provide and bring a storm of unforeseen doom. You are gray though you inhale light.
Spit it out.

dm.

Building Blocks

Friend or foe? Can one ever exist as the single selfless archetype which would be required to fulfill the duties of a true friend? Can enough hate exist among those never considered friends to become a true foe? The lines blur and there is no light that can illuminate the essence of a relationship. It exists for itself and nothing else. It cannot be contained nor can it be destroyed. However it is defined it will live on as it was. Without self. Selfless. Free.

dm.

Welcome Home

I rise, I rise; awake but not alive. A day is born after its due date, over-nurtured and underwhelmed. The rattle from the wall unit is monotonous and drowns out the sounds of life which must thrive beyond the tight shut windows. Beyond the shades drawn to keep out the vile sun and maintain artificiality. Not a thing about this place is real.
Why create cold and cover up? Nothing is ever just right. Pitch-perfect is too perfect; death to the auteurs whose vision becomes our own. See for yourself.
The day is young, hopeful, naive. Filled with promise and possibility of completion. The day is young and it can grow into more than yesterday. If the fates choose to waste another arrow from their quiver to send a sign then I will heed its warning. I will let down my guard and relinquish control of the reigns. The dark horses of destiny may gallop toward dreams or death. I will not fight. I do not have it left. The cacophony of sirens singing my song will sound harmonious even as I am pulled, lifeless to the inferno. Good morning.

dm

Chasing Dusk

Inhaling the sun with each pounding step, I follow the dirt path to my destination. One by one, drops of sweat join the shimmering lake whose banks I trace. It's a good day to die, but I'm too stubborn for that. I stare into the face of exhaustion and breathe in deep as I continue past.
As trying as the midday sun may be it is no match for the daily struggles I face inside my head. As the singularities become united around me I am cast off alone. The solitude becomes unbearable at times. Though I am often surrounded by acquaintances it is rare that I am at ease with myself. The group can hardly live up to the standards which I have set.
As the night approaches I feel myself growing one day older. There is no distraction from the brutal toll of time and its lawless encroachment on our lives. My only hope is to escape into the evening, riding the shadows to a place where time asks no questions. It is only here that I can find respite for a handful of hours before returning to a vapid and fleeting existence. Cheers.

dm.

Deterioration

I'm standing on both sides of an imaginary border.
Lines drawn only truly exist in your mind.
Ideas can't live on a page.
They remain inert until acted out.
It's often so difficult to see the value in what you uncover.
You have to see the single glint of light.
Work the edges until the gem reveals itself.
Hidden beneath the dirt is exactly what you've been looking for.
Left behind in a box of memories, waiting for a second glance.
The chance to be dusted off and worn on a finger.
Even diamonds deteriorate in certain situations.
Look closely.

dm

Trap Me

Trap me.
Confine me and I will create.
Without distraction I can build.
The settled dust will billow around me in a cloud of innovation..
only to settle again once the chains are broken.
Lock the door.
Throw away the key.
Lose the combination.
Until a novel's worth of pages slide under the crack.
Until I have absorbed all the light from the room.
And purged all the light I came in with.
Until I need to recharge.
Lock me up.

subterranean

I laughed to myself as I stepped,
thinking I've been here before--
never really knowing where I am.
This city haunts, but in the good way.
Some nights envelop you; let you in.
It's like you become a part of it.
I'll always be a part of it and vice versa.
The amazing air takes me back.
Leaves me back.
I want to stay forever.
What I need lay just underfoot.
The breeze may caress my arms,
mess my hair, I welcome it.
You can't live in a moment-
but you can carry it away with you.
You can always escape,
just open your mind and go.
The city remains.

dm.

Disappearance

Sometimes it feels like I'm disappearing.
Sometimes I don't care.

Reflex/Reflects

Sometimes you can walk by the same place (or person) a hundred times before the light hits just the right way and reveals the subtle beauty that has been there all along. I've got that funny feeling in the back of my throat like certain words just won't come out.. or maybe I'm getting sick, I'm not sure. "Just cuz he can't hear what you say doesn't mean that he's not listening." After the sunset the only thing that lights up my face is a computer screen and the occasional fleeting thought of a brighter future. The lights are out tonight. I'm going to take my chances curbside against the flow of traffic and hope to turn up somewhere that I can flip the switch. The road is there for travel but it's mostly for the return.

dm.

Shot.

Throw down your cameras! The exclamation point makes me sound far more enthusiastic and/or excited than I could be bothered to even pretend to be right now. I feel completely disillusioned with the idea of photography at the moment. Perhaps my constant documentation of the minutiae of my life is beginning to have a negative effect on my feelings about the art form and probably the quality of my work (or lack of work, as it were). I find myself becoming the people I recently mocked in a photo essay in Washington, D.C. That may be what sparked this feeling in me. While documenting the way people experience our nation's capital, I noticed people simply living through their cameras and not experiencing anything at all. After reviewing the photos and the idea I realized I am one of those people. I do things all the time but almost for the sake of a photo. I enjoy looking back on my daily photos, but I also realize that I am not progressing toward anything. I either need to become much more actively involved in creating a portfolio while gaining experience or I need to stop thinking I can do this and move on to something I can do. I need to shit or get off the pot. It's almost like using my camera for documentation has made it seem less than art to me. I can't be happy with any image I get. I'm too scatterbrained at the moment to even articulate all the things I'm thinking......

I need a new camera. With a good lens.
I need a process.
I can't focus on anything.
I am far too easily distracted.
I don't think I'm good enough for anything.
Everything keeps moving whether I like it or not.
Or not.

dm

There is no mirror reflective enough to show us who we really are.

A Family of Melting Snowmen

Everything is temporary.
Everything we spend time carefully building falls apart.
With time.
Our homes, our beds, ourselves.
There is no permanence.
Our idea of permanence is temporary.
It changes with age and understanding.
The realization is slowly revealed to us.
We are a family of melting snowmen.
Each part of us that was carefully crafted drips away.
Without regard or remorse.
We shrink in the sunlight, clinging to a cold core.
Wishing for winter nights to feed our souls.
Even if we sculpt a new exterior, we're gone.
Our essence absorbed into the ground.
Where we stay forever.
Or whatever forever means to us right now.

dm.

Sense

Sunlight is subdued today
Cloud cover plays through speakers
Echoes in a large expanse
Familiarity lingers vaguely in the air
Numbers count down to when it’s no longer okay
To be here or anywhere near
Aisles to exits that shine for attention
Demanding they be taken.
Seriously.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on eyes that never want to close
Vision lies with perception; without sight
Feeling is beyond what is tactile
It is not beyond attempting to touch
Singing words aloud to deaf ears
Words carry only the value we assign
Far from where they once resided
Finding new homes among strangers
How could anything convey an idea
Tastes change and speak in different tongues
Ideas pervade, even with a simple gleaning
Books hold words but seldom meaning.

.dm

The Tree

Everything is ugly sometimes.
The tree that grows from a seed stands dying in winter.
Rotted fruit lies beneath.
Once sweet and alive, it caves in on itself, shriveling in the cold.
The tree provides no shade for there is no sun.
Only gray.
Diffused light that covers life in a blanket of misery.
Quiet seems only too apropos.
Artificial death calls to end this; fittingly.

dm.

Walking forward

I closed my eyes on the brightness
I opened them up to the quiet blue evening
Feeling the seasons change can be exalting
Time is fleeting and that lesson is frequently taught
Years are teachers and minutes are messengers
Traveling a path most taken
Moving on doesn't always mean letting go
It just means you have to extend another hand.

I've never told anybody that before

My vision moves much slower than my eyes.
Staggering down a straight and narrow path.
Moving when I should be standing still.
Or is it the other way around?
You're one in a million to me.
While I'm just one of a million.
It seems like despair is much better at taking over than happiness.
Maybe because you just feel it more heavily.
Happiness makes you carefree and light.
You lose track of time when you're floating.
It drags along when you're pinned under an oppressive rock.
I'll just swim down until I reach the bottom.
I'm waterproof but I'm running out of air.

Building a House With No Foundation

Where's my head?
I've traveled so far and I knew I was going to forget something.
Thinking too clearly to really be me.
I'm usually cloudy with a chance of fucking stupid.
You should do card tricks because you're quite the illusionist.
Never mind the accidental references.
Get over yourself long enough to see who you're under.
Working out these meaningless words so they can have definition.
My heart strings have me tied up and locked in a back room.
In a way I don't want to break free.
How long can I live isolated from reality?

dm.