Something in the grasps that show
Every little thought structure create a shiny new vacancy
As I cradle my head to appease
The barrage of mind riots
That I can’t seem to shake
Not so loosely that I can mistake
for another something less costly
My eyes closed to the fingers typing
Musical notes of chills that
Explode through my body
Like a tidal wave of fear
I have never felt so near
To a feeling I can almost
Reach…
Rehearsing nostalgic feeds
Glancing in the direction
That it takes me
And feels as though
I’ve been here all along
Soothing the soft spot
And shadowing the wind
Blowing through my fingers…
if I ever come again
to the moon
and the lit sky lights
where do I go from here
walking a straight line
not seen or heard
through a variance
of attractive
measures
that only perpetuate
a clean wall
of thought
but how does it translate
pitted perversions of the scenes like the whole food parking lot
singled bottom feeders and lies
if it’s all fire and brimstone
then why keep searching
to find the rhyme and scrape
the side
find the mys
turn the page
and drag your mind
feed my shys
cuz I ain’t got a reason
to say goodbye
and the thoughts…
jumble up in the form of words that don’t come out just right
wondering if the only language is art in the form of actions;
every little pang opens up a new door
to the little dog that barks my name
Relevancy comes in two tones – discretion and impetuousness
Sitting in the muse of my existence
Shadowing the lucrative limelight that surrounds me (I’m not impressed)Cycles swarming
Vast peaches falling
Spilling
Juice
Down
the corridor of my mind
Flowers seem as deceptive
As the breeze simmering through my lips
Blowing…
As if there was a fingertip
Pushing the words
balancing shades
Of sorrow
And the not to mentions
Of tomorrow
Shaking the difference
Of logic and the emotion filled
flagging it up to
A whistle blown…
It’s going to take me time to sit down and admit what I didn’t want
searching the myriads of moments that have created the only one that
is immaculate to the nature of the way
things are and will always be
I don’t want to exist in fear of what is
living in me directing to the only way that can commit me to believing
in something that is
fondling the only thing sensing my tones of thought
caressing my dignity to find
the sought moisture of sentiments
shining in the window
believing is seeing
in me…
the way it enchants me, like a button I hold near
to the sobriety of the the walls that turned a blistery shade of honesty
through the placement of the inconceivable way it all seems to begin (and end)
and the reality of how the proclamations dancing so gorgeously
on my tongue – when I speak..
The margins sustaining space next to my fortunes that I found some time to disclose
the way I feel
towards life and the thoughts shuddering at a moment that
takes a hold of time and crawls to a smile
and knowing that this time
is the only one..
and so it seems, the laughter portability deciphers the channels
I surf through and gaze into an open window
My reflection in the distance
so miraculously flavored
at the dollhouse rendered
full of droplets of sentimental moods
shining next to an ambush of calm
and distractions of focus
believing the sentences that come out
of the fingertips of thought
and so we begin…
societal riches saturated in the minds of the young beginners
once in a while
they seep into a distinct brief cul de sac that is less amusing
once in a while
children and filters blow up the back doors of their minds
once in a while
that sustain some integrity even during lightning storms
once in a while
but a las’ we find a little old woman that isn’t bitter
once in a while
as the trenches open and the wounded heal and life remarks
once in a while (rinse and repeat)
without reason enough for me to captivate a new motive of insanity –
i contemplate the rawness of my thoughts
the incoherent posture I souly sustain to find nothing more than
scared little bodies of water
that run like pussies as if they had no idea of how to speak.
Cowardice motives are never enough for me or for my bodies of motion –
regret is not in my vocabulary because that is not living – that is robotic
fools daunting through grocery store isles pretending to carry on exotic conversations that in real time mean nothing more than a symbol of moronic irony at best. I’d just like to feel a symbiotic breeze that doesn’t feel like a blistering shot to the chest some times.
 | Anonymous on Masochistic behavior(s). |
| Anonymous on Evolve or Die. |
| Anonymous on Dark Matter. |
 | JenJuice on Dear Brother….. |
 | Eric on Dear Brother….. |
Jen Juice 