foolish zenith

sometimes
having reached
a foolish zenith

 reason surpasses
the enduring calls of
past words

all that is subjected to difference
seems thinly veiled as the last

all disguising the one truth
with no more than a
used epiphany

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gathering

Dear one,

i forgo so much

to please you

but resentment grows

like a stubborn

unwieldy weed

 

each word you utter in just jest

and all that i must not take so seriously

they solemnly gather

in dark slashing lines

surrounding me

their meanings rise

like too long stifled truth

each begs for due consideration

for its time in allotted worry…

 

but there is only so much i can do

before i break

and escape this

soft and cunning

prison

of promises and pleas.

am i thought?

just for fun, when writing the piece “lit/unlit” light was the word that rushed forth…

a word
rushes forth
at every chance
“am i needed?
“am i sought?”

it repeats itself
like a child recites
“can i or can i not?”

shamelessly
pandering
clumsily
meandering
teasing forgetfulness
like it wants to be caught

but ever ready
with a toothy grin
“am i needed?
how ’bout now?
am i thought?”

manic days

When there are Manic days

where hope when not cried for

glimmers slightly,

tinting lightly on the blushing horizon

Reminisce back to those heavenly times:

sweet stretches of blissful sighs.

Remember those moments

those cheery, dazey, redolently, dreamy days.

Wait…what is that?

Oh.

Only a
silly
repression.