Again

Thinking about the past
recruits my mind
to the ultimate future.
And in all hopes
this reminiscence
foreshadows it all.
Like Foucault
talking in circles
I'm left dizzy
when the truth of it
all comes to being.
Finding you again
allowed me to find
the self I hide
to protect my life;
this protection
I built to create
a future destitution.
And in this false present
the past once allusive before
creates a stronger bond
of the former beautiful me.

Daybreak I Rest

Cold air awakens my senses,
my thoughts of despair and destitution,
reminding me of my loneliness and heartache.

I have no one to call my love,
my empathy, my warmth
of comfort and forgiveness.

You say, they say, everyone says to wait,
progress within yourself
but I cannot surrounded by the cold empty.

Like a drum I sound out within penetrating outward,
waiting desperately to be heard on a vacant stage,
in a deserted auditorium and folded chairs.

Where is this warmth others engulf themselves?
In apathetic understanding of my heartache?
In their contented sighs, exhaling the chill?

This cold air haunts me like a mist of something old and used,
waiting for my insensitive rapture
when I least expect it; so I hold it at bay.

I sleep in the daylight, away from the sun's sweet
kissing my flesh to exquisite warmth
and walk in this tingling night's air.

Much Too Little

He is too much

Too much to fit the confines of my ignored mind

Too much to focus through his crystal ball eyes

Too much to follow this line of fog he leads me through

And I am too little

Too little to take his tall steps forward

Too little to teach his methods back

Too little to taunt my usual flaunts

The fit is wrong, we don't belong
I am too little, and he is too much
But I puzzle my little heart for the right fit

Last

Unspoken understanding

I look into his eyes

knowing he won't last long.

He knows I won't be there

and there is no deeper knowledge of our hardships.

My shoes won't fit

and he steps over them,

walking over my welcome mat,

to wait on my bed,

pressing his smell into my pillows.

I dream of one night of bliss

but my dreams end there.

I don't welcome myself to challenges.

I don't allow my heart to heal.

To forget yesterday

and let the dust fall,

from my shoulders,

down my back to be left behind me,

unsettles my core.

All I am is control.

But there he is, waiting for me,

with a hand behind his head

and the other on his chest,

making himself comfortable

where I sleep.

Why do I hold back?

Why do I live one night at a time?

I run from papercuts and throw myself into shattered glass.

Can he understand my insecurities?

And not look passed them?

Tomorrow he will be gone

and I will hold onto his memory

imprinted in my bed,

his lingering scent infused

in my pillows where I lay my mind;

like an unread love letter--

understanding the flesh

but foregoing the deeper intimacies.

He knows I won't let him.

He knows he can't push passed

my unwelcoming heart;

that door is closed.

I wish, so desperately,

to look passed his strengths

and embrace his weaknesses,

like a real woman.

But I look into his eyes,

looking into mine,

knowing he won't last long.

Slow Dance

Take a chance, what can it hurt?

Ask me to dance, but don't be curt.

Smile with your eyes, and not with your mouth.

The lips slip lies, and eyes can't pout.

Hands placed here, behind my shoulder.

Now this proximity wills us bolder.

Sculpt the music with our sway.

Let our hips guide the way.

Side to side, up and down,

It's in the breathing we feel it now.

A quickened heart with one lucky glance,

A single moment in one slow dance

Dear Recruiter,

Thank you for all your candor and time you spent on the phone today, getting to know me and my talents I outlined in my resume. I appreciate the forward to the next recruiter and or hiring manager, and will attach my references and salary history as soon as I write it and make it sound more fantastic than the truth. I hope to hear from you soon, given that this thank you letter is one of a kind and completely out of the blue.

Best regards and Thank you again.

Sincerely,

Anyone in desperate need of a job but can't seem to get one in this capacity, ever.
(NOT)ONE-HOPE

P.S. If you have any other way of asking me the same questions, and need another coffee break, read my cover letter (my rearranged resume) I also attached to this email in desperation for a second interview.

Tulmultuous Tryst

Cry into my arms, hover over me tonight
Spit in my face, push me, make me fight
Hold me down, press me full of vinegar
Unsettle my soul or feed me your ginger
I cannot, do not, will not budge
I quietly sit, I reflect, I judge
I need to be provoked without a choice
You're a rock, my pedestal I find my voice

Cherry Rush More

I am The Recluse, not The Walrus

I have moments of brilliancy,
but you can find me in the shadows.

I watch what is done, what you do
I mimic the life, I hide the truth

I make you know me, I make you think
My sharp bite like an intoxicate drink

But it all a ruse, a game to play

I act feeble, not strong under pretense
I fake happiness and grace, I wait

I wait for that moment of shared eyes
I search in the crowds of shadows to hide

But it is your eyes the truth I find
I cannot mimic the eyes, the window

I capture the landscape through them
I paint my own pictures of intimacies.

But it is all a ruse, a game to play

Sadly misunderstood, I hide in the shadows
I have my moments of brilliancy

The shadowplay mastery, quiet yet riotous

I am The Recluse, not The Walrus.

What Dreams May Come

Dreams can be realities that constantly try to escape
the small profound passages of one's mind.

I once dreamed about you, in all your constant penultimate glory.
You were the platter, your eyes the shine of the silver brilliance.

I ate off you and your charismatic energy,
like food with supernatural powers.

Yes, dreams can be realities, if you let them.
Dreams can only illustrate your desires but not with clarity.

Clarity and lucidity come from drive and ambition,
and your own energy; your personal soul food.

So goodnight and pleasant blessed dreams.

Remind yourself, before the sweet slumber of night
behind the silver brilliance of your own eyes,

that you are what you make of yourself, and dream it true!