I try not to think about you
but you come into my memories view
and I don’t want to let go
but you’re already gone
I don’t want to think about it too much
I’m scared I won’t make it out alive
but sometimes thats preferable
than this pain inside.
life
day 22: Glad rag of flesh
I’m a tenant in this glad rag of flesh
running up a debt
do I owe it all to death?
that smiling skeleton
brought my breath
it catches in my throat every now and then
holding it in
then breathing it out when
I’m back in the room again
Day 21: Prism
My breath was a triangle
shaping me into a prism
a contortionist
contorting to comfort
within discomfort
the pain a backrest
in which to rest my head
a backdrop of tidal waves
to slowly tread
Day 19: Contortionist tree
Ever the contortionist
the tree twisted gnarly limbs
branching out in all directions
many a perch for the crows
and those wise black eyes
that surely know
the tree had weathered many storms
only the crow could tell
when the crown would fall
Day 16: Pause
The music plays
an admission that life continues
I want to take the notes out of the song
and hold them still
never letting go
forever on pause
to reflect the undertow of silence
now you’re gone
day 15: Problems I couldn’t mend
I wanted to be pink sky
telling of future calm
instead, I was grey
with heavy cumulonimbus clouds
seeking to vent
unable to ease your burdened heart
because these were problems I couldn’t mend
day 14: sorrow
Even simple cumulus clouds
can seem like they’re pregnant with storms
as they mark time in the sky
when you feel alien and heavy
with sorrow, you’re trying to hide
when there is an ocean weighing down your stomach
and tidal waves rising up to your throat
it doesn’t matter that the sun is shining up there, up high
all that matters is the tide
of the emptiness inside
Day 13 Life is one big hollow scream
Life is one big hollow scream
of nothingness
consuming itself
over and over again
Day 10: Black tongues
I’m a discombobulated, disembodied
automated automaton
an assorted medley
a conglomeration
running numbers
trying to find my station
and there I was
between their eyes
caught in their squawk
at home amongst the black tongues
Advent calendar 5: Sunday wordle
Too much chatter with each beat of the heart
anguish laced with anger a match striking against the grain of us
and so we burn along with the edges
our role unknown
like domesticated felines
just choking the world into a black hole
men with guns for fun
not for want of food
and my soul cannot take it
in this haze of all this smoke
looking for a sign
but seeing only the curse
each of our footsteps a roar
upon the earth
silent like a secret
so we can’t see the destruction we birth
and though the world is a hive
in which we live
we damage it from within
predators of the earth
and in the future they say
we’ll be among the stars
consuming worlds out there too
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 