Mutable

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Life insists

on patience

but once I have arrived

at a destination

how can I be content

to wait outside?

 

My heart falters mid-air

clips the rim of the wastebasket

and falls to the floor

with an unsettling squelch.

She will leave a stain no doubt.

But isn’t that what we all want

to leave something behind

when we are gone

and haven’t the impulse

to make anything new?

 

I watch her sputter and turn.

Everything hurts,

your absence,

my disenfranchised life,

even the crescents

at the ends of my fingertips

from scraping so long

at the same intractable walls.

 

I am afraid of my life,

afraid of my heart 

because even on the outside

she has a knack for drawing me in.

The butterflies in my stomach

are made of wire.

They jab and tangle.

They perforate my insides

whenever they spread

their amature wings.

 

I don’t want to die

voluntarily incarcerated.

I don’t want to go

another moment

without knowing you.

The road between us

has yet to intersect but still

I love knowing that you are out there

savoring and scavenging

under the same mutable vault as I.

Wordle #133

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The rhythm of my fists

Drown the distances

Between disparate infinities.

The whisper of wood

Against my relentless impulse.

We all seek to destroy

The moments bridging events.

I kneel before the invisible

A precise hum to drown

The denizens inside my head.

Another hit of creation,

Another dose of detachment

Years of anguish emit

A capsizing refrain

And I am only me

Same as I ever was.

Wordle #188

188

Brenda Warren

What miserable children we were!

Forgotten are the stains of miscreance

The nimble pirouettes and cloudy days

Pressed against a decisive pane of glass.

How we waited hearts resolute

Eyelashes palpitate, lips aflutter,

Neglected fingernails hammering

A nocturne composed explicitly

To punctuate our impatience.

These are not the moments

That plague us in maturation

An inconvenience seldom spills over.

I remember most that which was

Unspeakable and that which in passing

Might seem ordinary if not for joy.

I do not remember boredom

Though it must have preoccupied me once

And in occupation abducted

Many precious opportunities for fun.

Impetuous

8Marcela Bolivar

This moment might

Not surrender progeny

And I have been known

To speak heedlessly

For fear of innuendo

 

I’m one of those girls

Who measures worth

In expedience to love

And for the sake of

Synchronicity I am

Prepared to acquire

Even those patterns

Which confront

 

I think of pain

Nearly as I often

As I think of food

Both invoke hunger

But indulgence only

Deepens the former

*

The house was gorgeous everything I hoped and the owners took exceptionally good care. I loved it truly. The bank approved us for a loan. Sam will bid on Monday I want to bid right now haha Fingers-crossed!

 

I’m Still Here

1378046844_other_side_of_the_mirror_by_iskander1989-d5sh9o9Art By: Tullius Heuer

There exists no quantifiable measure of attention

But had I yours I would store it in my marrow

That the essence of you would embellish

The essence of me, two held without division

*

I watch your eyes enter trackless schools

Swimming between edifice and eventuality

Never do they stir the fathoms of my reflection

*

I am not the one absent, the vampiric stowaway

Whose only inclination is scarlet

You are the sand without a requisite polish

The heat of passage and compression

*

I have been cleaning and once I get obsessed I find it hard to shift gears

Prompt 41 Consuming Impatience

sarolta-ban-surreal-4Today’s prompt is consuming impatience which let’s face it in today’s fast-paced gratification-driven society we experience way more often then we should. If you need to connect with the feeling just think back to the dark ages of dial up. When I first got the internet back in ’99 I spent more time waiting to establish a connection then I spent online surfing. I am the first to admit that I am impatient. When I know the time frame I am pretty tolerant even if the wait is long, it’s the not knowing that disturbs me the the most. Some more examples to contemplate

Waiting (traffic jams, doctor’s appointments, inconsiderate dates, waiting for a child to finish eating)

Listening (I love Sam and he is an interesting and highly amusing guy but he takes epic conversational pauses. Often I think he’s finished talking and wander off when he’s still buffering)

Assembling Ikea furniture (actually I love assembling furniture but Sam beats me to it)

Learning something new in a challenging area

You’re hungry and there’s no food in sight (this for me is the worst)

Lust

Tech support I have never called them as I’m married to the IT guy but I hear it is awful

Arguments

An alternative prompt

Consider what your life would be like without the internet. How would you fill your days? What would your social life look like? Would you be more isolated? Did you meet someone special/irreplaceable online that you might not have met? Would you exercise more? Do you spend an unhealthy amount of time online? Or do your friendships online keep you from certain destructive addictions?

Zipper

zipperIf I were a planet

I’d have a hollow core

Crepuscular in odyssey

I’d drift aimlessly

Ricocheting against

Invisible labyrinths

No matter how

Fastidious the design

Fate always bends

Toward entropy

*

If I were a landscape

I’d have a muddied surface

From hoards of unshod feet

Trampling my potential

Into self-serving affectations

Impatience and convenience

Always trump conservation

*

If I were a house

I’d be uninhabited

Save for death

Which preys

Even as it sows

Transience being

Indiscriminate

In its undertaking

*

If I were a man

Praise would not terminate

My sense of omission

I’d hunt egregiously

From stolen parcels

And assign contrast

I am good

Therefore,

Other is bad

Polarity Installment #3

timehamster

Not wanting to walk in her shadow the youth remained at the bar. Silence had fated him to a late night engagement for he could not in good conscious leave the stranger waiting. He would not tell his parents of the event, the moment was too exceptional to share. He did not want for their sensible well-meaning advice, he wanted for his own privacy. He wanted for a moment unmeasured and unmonitored so that he might find to which pole his heart was partial.

*

When he arrived home his mother was mopping the living room floor. She did not wait blatantly, watching the clock but patiently with her eyes on the floor. “Welcome home…” She said looking up and there was no concealing her relief even though she managed to convey it entirely through nuance. “I stopped at the Smoothie Bar…” He explained closing the door softly behind him. Sympathetic brown eyes regarded him, the same eyes which he himself found on reflection. Such eyes were never angry.

*

“You needed time to yourself?” She asked and he nodded guiltily. How was it that she always understood? “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked and he didn’t really. “How do you it? The same thing day after day?” He asked watching her cautiously. He wanted the words he knew she could not give, those words that would alter his reckless course and satisfy wholly his existence. “With a smile and sometimes through gritted teeth…” She admitted and he could say no more for he did not wish to seem ungrateful. “I’ll get started on my chores….” He said and though she could sense the exhaustion in his voice it was his resolve she humored. “Moods are like weather…the shadows will pass…no matter how long the night….the light exists comorbid….” Even in death light was a steadfast guide, he knew her words and understood in them truth. Intellectually. Emotionally he hungered and physically he was all but empty. It was the darkness he now pleaded, midnight could not arrive soon enough.

=

For those just jumping in this is my attempt to recount a dream I had recently