Friday, May 2, 2014

OUR TRAGEDY OF GRAND ORDER

on a single street
was a stretch of sad images:

  a coffin and empty chairs,
  an empty wake,
  an entire village wiped out by fire,
  rubble, broken house,
  girls smoking cigarettes

miles ahead is an inexhaustible universe,
all these, a portrait of our uncertainty.

we cry for the things out of our control,
we contain our excitement
in fear of jinxing things,
all the while secretly wishing
that the world be in our favor
and allow us to spill as much feelings
as we can afford

but instead
it is the opportunities that spill
time tumbling downward
we, losing ourselves
chasing.
we no longer persist like a firefly glow,
dancing no longer in motion.
the universe has betrayed us.
we are beautiful, yes.
promising and ripe like a peach,
like a woman
but we no longer feel kind.

this is our uncertainty.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

(i look at sand and the sand is within me. every night, i sink into this restless waiting of something unnamed. instead of undressing and removing the mascara and shedding the wrong kind of skin, tidying the debris of today, i stare and lie in wait. i apply more lipstick. i wait and do not sleep but because nothing happens, a certain vitality ebbs away that now i’m afraid i’m grasping on a connection so thin and frail. i sink. i feel a lack of something essential. i am so incredibly thirsty and in need of something real and heavy, a conversation, a weight, a solidity to keep me here, now and present. if living is living externally then i wish none of it. it does not fill you inside. it demands so much and takes so much that there is no more for reading, for seeking or meditation, for simple, mere dreaming. i do not feel like myself. living should only be about the soul but this soul is no longer breathing but crippled. internally it crawls; it weeps.)
tags: napowrimo, x