English Paneling

1-4

This is how I will suffocate,
in your adoration.
Hands cover my mouth
while I keep my resolution.
I put my fingers in my ears,
and disappear
before you
tell me, tell me
you love me.

5

Desolate Bungalow

Gravity Paper

Ink Wired

Numb

Perpetual Absence

Unhinged Focus

Lost Wax

Done

6-9

Days, dry as dirt
kicked up in heels,
catch in my throat.
I want them back.
Tomorrow, better yet-
today, I will stop
rushing away. The distance
between here and the deserted
has been
forgotten.
Washed up,
I am ready to devour those days.

10-13

I am dead in a box in the center of the room talking to everyone or no one can hear me or they neglect to listen because I do not say what they want to hear or I make no sense to anyone but myself because I am only speaking to someone a million miles away from where I am at present they cannot hear me or I make no sense.

14-17

I am out of corks
with a barrel full of holes.
The relief will not stop;
resentment pouring and filling
the cracks in the walls,
plaster caked in puke green,
painted over in pink
for all the world to see.

Best Dressed Death

The Millers

I am reminded of the man at the bar
Who has forgotten who his kids are.
There, swallowing tequila straight
Same call as every night his fate.
To me, he blames it on the whore
Claims she pushed him out the door,
But he can’t provide the reason why.
And, I am certain she would deny
His musings to me this late hour.
They are causing my gut to sour.
But, that is how he believes it to be.
He says he won’t go back, you see
That he’s still in Rye, there living.
Only now, looking in me to find forgiving.
He says he’s certain they will find
She has lost her fucking mind.
And, it is only himself he’s hurting
While hiding behind his convertible curtain,
To save him from his mirrored face.
He won’t look across and find disgrace,
Instead sets his eyes on the last of the bottle.
All of his duplicitous life he’s set to throttle
In a dull thudded break of dawn.
His head heavy under his crown,
He buries each night, repeated.
The music, he says she cheated.
If only the radio had played that night,
There would be nothing, nothing right.

Terminus

Seventeen years had passed since their admission, supine, hands clasped. The moment paused and rewound so many times it has begun to slip and slur. Yet it remains solid, holding down everything from that time, forward. It is the ground to which any path may be traced.

It is far from nothing.

They were alone, their easy banter quickly escalating to hysteria. It was cast. He pressed his words between their laughter, hoping that the weight of their meaning may be buoyed by the mirth of the spell. As he had hoped, they had caught her off guard. And, she swallowed her response, continuing to laugh as if what he said was part of the folly.

It is easier to disbelieve.

Then he turned to her and she found the truth in his eyes. He wanted to take it back; he did take it back. While she held her breath and hoped that she could find her words, and that they wouldn’t sound ridiculous in the wake of her stay, he had let his words disintegrate.

The moment was gone.

In an instant, fear can consume you. It can make you refrain from disclosure, from the truth. You may hold your tongue or reel in its wag. Once it is fixed, fear can thrive in you for years, feeding off of regret, recycling into a fierce energy…anger.

It can destroy.

Or you may gain experience, chalk it up to another missed cue. You can allow yourself to forgive, provide another the opportunity to atone. Understand that when acknowledged, fear can guide you. You can turn it around and fear can provide additional strength to push you beyond previous expectations, to rise above limitations.

What has become of them?

Over 2500 miles travelled between the lines, their lives. They both stand as a movable marker for a moment, a slide rule for a decision. They are not broken, but both are damaged. Each has a life filled with family, friends, knowledge, achievements, and failed attempts. Of course, there is a portion of their lives of which the other is aware, a fraction that they speculate. But, neither knows that the other will occasionally recall that moment, reflecting on, but never regretting, its purpose.







p.s. nemo.