voids –
spaces not filled –
empty – holes …
a glance –
eyes searching for confirmation,
not returned.
a hand – offered –
friendship –
given –
no takers…
sentences without punctuation.
and you –
the question i am not allowed to answer!
Author Archives: boyfrommville
some days – grace…
some days we find the space between our could be and our is –
a minefield of failed expectation-
enticing yet much too dangerous to cross.
the most difficult part lies in the un-knowing.
so instead of stepping out in faith,
we stand safe behind our fence of doubt –
imagine the freedom that must come with the passing.
today i stood –
once again –
on that path to unbecoming.
understanding the potential contained within that first step –
to disallow the author of regret to write another page in the book of me.
i thought about the lines –
monologue of disengage –
rehearsed a thousand times upon an empty stage.
irrelevant the absence of audience.
the words intentional.
agenda revealed.
this time –
one final curtain call.
and as i pushed with defiant deliberation upon the gate –
i felt the rush of emancipation.
no longer held captive by chains of indecision.
casting off the weight of can’t –
i traded could-be with can.
feelings of doubt exchanged without reluctance for the comfort of peace.
some days – we find exception to the rule of exist.
some days –
grace…
loneliness (part 1)
and i –
your heroin have become.
accouterments of discontent –
the pain you feel – no one –
can understand…
emphatic –
to the definition of all alone –
you cling with defiance to your pain,
darkness – attached to night…
i wonder –
in your room of disallowed,
do shadows fall?
or is – perhaps – the sorrow so profound
no light dare enter in?
no setting sun.
no rising moon.
no longer stars in your midnight sky –
merely holes,
allowing darkness in…
hourglass of our demise
caught up in the vortex of assume.
we place our hearts on trays of trust –
offer invitation to presentations of our self.
with marked deliberation –
we push the everything of all we are onto center stage –
dim the lights –
create atmosphere of intimate accommodation.
and there.
exposed.
wearing only the skin of our re-purposed conviction –
we promenade our is –
recite monologues of our suppose.
there is,
i feel,
no sorrow more defined than diminished expectation.
to strip away the layers of apprehension –
peel off the mask of reluctant –
allow access to the very essence of our was,
in hopes of finding partner on the journey to our will become –
and find,
when naked of all but our indiscretion,
the effort wasted –
could-be not an option…
as the curtain begins to close –
lights of life begin to dim –
we realize the absence of audience.
as one by one the patrons reassigned.
most often to follow adventures we cannot comprehend.
while we remain –
restrained as sand within the hourglass of our own demise.
someone Else’s shore
how great – to live another is,
unchained to why –
how awesome to – un-become…
un-tethered,
i would roam the sky –
high above the angry sea –
lose myself in currents
of reprieve…
believe – i would no longer
need –
insignificantly – culpable;
unnecessarily – obtrude!
and life –
as relatively – perceived –
could be no more.
sweet freedom –
from the baggage of was,
insignificant as broken shells
on someone Else’s shore…
the chasm
this post for you.
the many that stopped along their journey to pick up stones.
irrelevant,
i suppose,
assignment of conduct as predetermined –
defined –
painstakingly deliberate.
regardless the supposition –
in spite of deference of arbitration –
you chose to throw opinion into the chasm of my demise.
contrived.
maliciously ostentatious.
your character defined by absence of even a glimmer of humanity.
conspicuously infantile,
i listen to you speak to acts of reconciliation for my sins –
recompense required to rectify my resistance to your (implied) authority.
and even as i grasp for option of absolution,
i feel the weight of intolerance crushing apathetically my refuge of hope.
and from your eyes –
blank stare.
from which no light dare enter,
or if detained,
escape…
nothing
we hold on to our pain –
sometimes the only thing we feel –
scared to let it go,
afraid of – nothing…
empty –
a vessel of capability,
unfilled;
hands reaching for intention,
unrecognized…
so cold – the absence
of light;
no darkness more deep
than feeling all alone.
becoming Jericho
oh my duplicitous Pygmalion!
while you were sleeping,
i was years away…
… trapped,
as you would say –
contained within my pre-assembled tomb of ambiguity.
but there is where i find –
i,
my – me…
and while you walk in circles
around my truth,
expecting walls of nonchalance to crumble,
i smile –
free of your contagious animosity…
how simply –
archaic!
your words,
so fervent in their request to be my savior –
however,
your eyes do not invite –
and your clinched fists can never hold these trembling hands…
more than necessary
i enjoy you –
as much as great,
as deep as sky…
i drink you in,
submerge myself
in your smile –
lose my way,
in the deepness of your eyes!
time stands still,
when i’m with you –
reality redefined –
you speak my name,
and worlds collide…
how can i sleep,
dare close my eyes and find you gone when waking?
this fragile heart would surely break
if suddenly alone,
detached…
without you,
i would simply cease to be…
greater than want,
you are,
so much more than necessary!
on dying…
into this fragile body –
we are poured –
un-rippled –
as light spilling through a window.
given life –
we all too soon –
take for granted.
marvelous,
don’t you think –
the awesome act of –
living?
it’s relevance,
accentuated by
the alternative!
standing too close to the edge 