A conversation bright with smiles and laughter.
A silence that fills voids and speaks unto itself.
I can feel the threads pulling, weaving together.
The unsteadiness of a swoon.
I look down to secure my balance, my confidence.
Wondering if the emotion I feel spill through my chest
is moving in a line or a circle.
And it sits in me still
That wanting
Sometimes thrilling but more often
Haunting
And my head tends to throb
From the thinking
And my heart flutters still
As it’s sinking
I beg myself to stop
The madness
To stop picturing life like
I had this
When the thoughts are
Unfailingly seeping
I still glow in the embers
I’m keeping
The friction between graphite and paper.
Its drag on the paper a catharsis, like digging for secrets
through rock laden earth.
An easily broken trowel
still capable of excavating caverns
long covered over by the soil of denial.
The sounds of it like the plaguing questions we spare answering
for we still aren’t ready to hear the truth.
The hiss of roiling pots on a stove throwing water upon the flames
attempting to douse them.
The staccato of nagging realities
The swoop of a blotted memory
The scritch of all that haunts your mind when sleep is due.
But also,
The call to slow down, and release this weight within you
before you sink through the silt.
Glassed over, unblinking
Apart from the world
As if from reality
They have been hurled
No longer seeing
What lies before
The widening blankness
Is hard to ignore
You can feel the dawning
Of truth now occurring
The mood in the room
Is building and whirring
No moment hence
Shall ever resemble
What this single moment
Has now disassembled
Clad in catastrophe
Drenched in distress
Soaking with somber
Regally repressed
Boisterously broken
Addictive adulation
Morbidly magnificent
Lurid lamentation
Perpetually plagued
Winsome within wallowing
Entropically engaged
Fanatic in their following
Gargantuanly grieving
Tyrannically trite
Violently vapid
Naturally, at night
The glassy top of a quiet lake grows wings as the fowl land upon it.
The disruption makes waves that lap to the shore fraying its once still edges. The sudden sounds crack the quiet facade. Some modest, some taunting and shrill.
The surface breached by ravenous beaks and bills. Below, the chaos is churned by the need for survival.
The fish, like pieces of the lake, who believed they would always be there.
In a raucous mounting the birds have gone, reinstating the serenity as if untouched, save one pristine feather upon the lakes face floating gracefully.
The shallow breaths of pleasure shudder from us as if we are incapable or undeserving of wielding such a power.
An expansion elicited from intimacy, doors and windows splintered open by the maelstrom. A frightening sort of joy.
Chaos and clarity converge, pinched together in fleeting moments.
Not just naked but boneless and skinless in an avalanche, we eschew our defenses for a feeling just like the greatest victory.
We assign it a sanctity, we imbue it with divinity for nothing so monumental can only be made from what is within us. As if a greater power intervenes and gifts this delight.
We are only human but in these moments we are emboldened to forget
A voice not of your making
But purely formed with passion
Born from a frustration
Of things said in careless fashion
A power builds within you
Your mind a sharpened blade
The thoughts come forth with ease
Without hindrance, without aide
A flowing source of knowledge
To battle flagrant spouting
A bravery and wisdom
Shown without a bit of shouting
Delivering succinctly
To their resistant ears
The message they have needed
But long refused to hear
Sometimes life will tell you
This is not what’s meant
Despite all of your efforts
And time that you have spent
So delicate a structure
That constantly it’s falling
And you don’t stop to listen
To the new voice that is calling
Or should I say old
It has always been there
You have heard it and felt it
The bore of its stare
So dip in your toe
Run it through your fingers
See how it feels
Feel how it lingers
Hear the gentle click
As it falls easily in place
A passionate renewal
To eclipse the grueling race
Enclosed within the crinoline
A history of stiffness
The two toned color palette
Making up the public’s litmus
An acidic strife for freedom
According to so many
Better to stay alkaline
And live a life aplenty
A life of cooking, sewing, cleaning
Made complete with rearing
Nevermind the mind inside
The beatings they were fearing
Stiffened skirts and morals
The tautest upper lips
Shame a common weapon
With which all seemed well equipped
The wanton search for passion
At the cost of their good standing
While weakness and submission
Were the status quo’s demanding
And still today the litmus stands
Though nowadays seems subtle
Once stiffened tongues now bravely loose
Resound in their rebuttal
The Mewriginal 