March 26, 2015
An acute sensation of falling
for and into a black hole:
a soft focus abyss, otherwise known as bliss.
Or a train wreck, carrying hazardous waste,
something I can look forward to
looking back on with distaste.
Constantly fighting funny familiar feelings of futility,
trying to put the brakes on the morbidity,
but it keeps rolling down the line.
And as I watch it disappear,
life as I have long known it,
becomes all the more precious
and acutely defined.
Posted in Antiepithalamia, Emptyscapes |
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November 11, 2014
Darling, don’t let our love ever die.
Because if it does, I’ll be shattered
by all the time I’ve wasted
keeping it alive.
Posted in Emptyscapes |
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September 20, 2014
I waited a long time
to be haunted
by what wasn’t wanted.
One experiences a different kind of nostalgia
when one doesn’t ‘change’.
Yet the question is still the same:
how best to squander
the rapidly diminishing time that remains.
Posted in Emptyscapes, Poems of regret and Resentment |
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February 12, 2014
This death, as opposed to my other deaths,
feels dangerously like spring.
A catastrophic waste of time,
but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Posted in Antiepithalamia |
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May 2, 2013
Whenever I have such a useless day as this,
which seems to happen often,
I break it down, hour by wasted hour.
I work hard to locate the source of the problem,
and, if possible, blame it on somebody else.
Posted in Negative Affirmations, Pointless Revelations |
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April 26, 2013
I am not yet quite over it.
I am lying down on top of it.
Surveying behind me a wasteland
of dried-up promise.
While the lights below twinkle
with dull mocking uncertainty.
There isn’t much left to look forward to,
and the looking forward of the past has been belied.
Posted in Inertia Variations |
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