Tailored

We always want to change what we have. Pick something up off the shelf and, instead of taking it as it is, we imagine all the things we could tweak slightly to make it perfect in our eyes. Take in the waist, fray the edges, add this, and remove that. Nothing is good enough. We don't see something we want, just something we can make into something we will want. And then what happens when you realize you can't fucking sew? You have no idea how to put on a button. You've just cut up what you thought could be perfect and are left with tatters and regrets that you tried to alter it in the first place. You could have had something wonderful, but instead of being happy with that you had to make it better. And now you're out in the cold with nothing. Next time.

Beds

Ever feel like you've got too many words in your head for them to come out?

They won't make sense to you.

They don't make sense to me.

My skull literally feels heavy.

My heartbeat is slowly chugging in my ears.

It reminds me of you; quiet and determined.

I can't focus on one thing, my eyes shift.

Walls.

Keys.

Skin.

Bed.

Empty space.

Toes twitching thoughtlessly.

Biting my lips.

Pinkie hits the Return.

Again.

This isn't poetry.

There is no order.

No chronology.

There is no stream of consciousness.

That shit dried up.

Everything's flooded and I've got dust on my tongue.

Tan lines hide who I am.

Fuck this face.

I'm just peeking at who you used to be.

Who you never were.

Seeing who I want you to be through squinted eyes.

Biting nails.

Tongues.

Shoulders.

Printed words slow my breath.

Definitions come so easily.

You can't Google people.

Not really.

I can type the letters; I still have no clue who you are.

You come out slowly.

Through thumbs and half-smiles.

I need to step out of the light.

I'm afraid someone will see me.

But I want them to.

Don't I?

Walking heart strings like high-wires.

I practice without a net.

But I want to fall.

Don't I?

There's no center ring here.

No rings at all.

Never will be.

Only inside my ears.

I need another 45 away from me.

Assume another identity and look for myself there.

Bringing things back up.

How you've grown.

Take criticism and run with it.

Perfect your flaws.

Write your wrongs.

Piece by piece by piece.

Bye.

Into the Whiled

No one would ever know anything happened here.
From tumult to ghost town in my mind.
Bracing for the winds of change to mess my hair and displace my stance.
I'm a mountaineer, but my global (dis)position system is off.
I've got tunnel vision to the tallest peaks.
But once I arrive I'm just looking for the next mountain to climb.
One step closer to the future seems too close to the edge.
This elevation won't last forever.
The air is thinning and my hands are cold despite all the degrees.
I'm climbing towards a height I can't know.
Don't look for me; I'm not looking back.

dm.

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.