january 29, 2015

don’t let me lose myself
to the crystal coated barren tree skeletons
to the shapes in my cereal bowl
to my questionably founded hobbies
to the romance of the english language
to angelic neon women
to the cold grip of loneliness
to the sod that grows back less each summer
to an open road or sky
to percentage measured substance
to vicarious nostalgia
to streets named after dead men
to the lies i tell myself
to the lies anyone else tells me


this is

probably me
adult teething
on responsibility

for nothing


intellectual deaths
in the depths
of winter

lost ambition hovering
somewhere in the lamplit corner
of the living room

fractured curiosity bleeding
somewhere in the cold glow
of winter dusk


day suspended dimly
in grey tones between
ashy skies reflected in
glassy sidewalks

pleasures stripped
sequentially as
the year descends
through seasons

the indescribable
colour you bring
to my wastelands
to my boredom


flowered up through
tested ground where
skeletons of shipwrecks
were textbooks

try not to weigh self-worth
against anything
but the spirit

want to weave my way
through nature’s limbs and
find solace in cities where
no one knows my name