Stealing Summer's Breath

Two thin lips

pushed themselves

together, reluctantly

and nervously quivered

like ripples in the wake.

They pursed and whislted

a melodic kiss across 

a sparkled sea of diamonds,

dreams, and all the

pleasantries between.

Though these lips

themselves never did

touch their target,

and though they never could

convey the love that

drew the two together,

the sound released from

hesitance and stutters 

transcends the distance between

the dream and reality.

I painted

the walls of my head

with the milky froth

throttled between

the mildewed walls

of a well that dried.

A vast canvas of white,

blotched with the

yellows and reds I’d picked

from flowers that

grew between the

cracks in the soil below.

Each dot of color a 

separate sun,

each sun a system of

dreams and thoughts

that stand dormant;

pinned against

the walls of my head.

If I may

escape the trappings

of human skin I do

pray and beg that

my departure is

as smooth as the

dreams that run

red as I pull my

soul from beneath

this ravaged mess.

My head keeps me heavy;

my thoughts pull me down.

I slouch and slump

my shoulders wretched

my spine twisted and mangled;

my thoughts, my thoughts

they weigh me down.

I’ve been away the last few days.

Alas, I am back though. I see many of you cared.

Scary how quickly all the doors have opened.

I spun

my hands

counter clockwise

and wound my

tongue to read

the numbers

backwards

so that maybe

I could in fact

unhinge myself

from the grip

of time.

But alas I find

that the time

it took for me to

write this petty

mess and the

time it took for

me to ice

the shoulders

and start again

left me

with less than

I began with.

Though tears do

fill the distance

placed between us,

all,

and though they

do run as quickly

as they can to

keep pace with

the heave of our

breath;

they still do reflect

the light from the

future waiting for us,

all.

And so, I do rejoice

that the only space

between us,

my friends,

is that made with

watery praise;

for they do pass back

the brightness of

the days that lay

ahead,

guiding us to the

lives waiting

to be led.

O sweet mouth of heaven,

o merciful tongues that

bat flames from the throats

of myths of martyrs,

o sweet teeth carved from

stone and marble,

take all you can from

what little I’ve left to give.

Take me whole,

sweet absolution,

as I am and as I’ll never be.

Take me in, sweet misery;

take away all I never should have seen.

Undo the wrongs I’ve done

and undo the wrongs done unto me,

erase me as you see,

create me as I ought to be;

a tall pillar of dried clay,

melting in the glare

of the hottest days.

Between the beats

and thumps of

feet upon a

floor of wood

and restless sleep

I still see you,

a smile I’d missed

beyond the sway

of arms and limbs

like ships throttled at sea.

I still see you,

though I’d rather

not admit it.

Wait, say that again?

You mean, I have to wear a tux, be surrounded by people I never really liked or talked to one last time, listen to horrible, pounding music (and probably dubstep), and then lug my migraine riddled ass onto a bus full of drunken yuppie scumbags to find our way to Manhattan, AND THEN get home at 530 in the morning to “party” all over again?

That sounds like an awesome deal sign me up right now.