Projection.

 

Superfluous in your sedation,
a situation of inebriation.
Projecting onto others all
that fills you with trepidation.
Your salvation seems to be
entwined with degradation.
Humiliation tactics result in
little more than alienation;
an isolated abomination
enabled by your own frustration.
And yet, you play the fool,
act so coy, as though
it's recreation, when it's really
just cause for further consternation.
The stars in your enchanting
eyes could've been constellations,
instead of this denial-footed dance
that defines your docile narration.
A creation of confidence kissed
by complacence, I pray you find
a way to heal before you pursue
further relations. Irrigate your need
for empty validation, before it eats
away at your soul's starvation.

Central Park.

 

You came along when skies were dark,
just like a song, you left your mark.
Upon my heart, I felt a spark.
Our energy was off the charts,
hit a homerun, out of the ballpark.
An unexpected restart, our chemistry
encapsulated me, like the finest art.
I was a whale, and you my shark,
these butterflies, you left me, are all monarch.
And I refuse to disembark, from the stark
difference between you and other guys.
No other lover has been quite as adept,
at leaving me feeling windswept.
Caught off guard, although I like it,
this kind of love at first sight, it's
disarming, although it feels effortless.
a brand new reference, that's incredulous.
And now I'm here, and you're so far,
but I can still feel your touch upon my
brand new skin.
You've become the one I want,
oh how, I crave your gaze, that's
enchanted me, and made it's mark,
whether you're right next to me,
or as far away as Central Park.
Never before has someone been more
intriguing, or befitting of my all-encompassing adoration.
Simply put, you should know that
I would wait a thousand years and a day,
for a recreation of those few moments
we shared of sheer unadulterated bliss.
You fit me like a glove, left me yearning
for a love that's just slightly out of touch.
In another lifetime or alternate reality,
I know without a doubt that we are
holding hands just like we should be.
And yet, until we meet again, I'll hold
a candle to our flame that brightly burns,
and leaves me feeling whole, just for having known my same is out there somewhere, breathing life, love, light, luck into fading spaces.

Healer.

 

I collect others' karmic dust
cure &&& heal the unconscious
like a vacuum, I suction up
trials &&& trauma that disrupt
daily lives leaving them in disrepair
disturbances that dare to keep
them on the edge of their toes
like volcanoes verging to erupt.
Then wring my hands til blood
runs circling the sink accusing
everything but the boundaries
I don't put up, to protect the
sacred sanctity of my own sanity,
a counterintuitive cycle that needs
to complete, so that it leads to the
death of this dance that defeats.
Nothing compared to the joy it depletes.

Bananas.

When I was young &
inexperienced, arrogance
fooled me into believing
I was ingenious.

Life was a box of chocolates,
like nothing could be easier.
But now that I'm older,
I've learned humility.
The more I grow,
the less I know.
With ev'ry turn,
there's lots to learn.

The spoils
of youth, though rich
& luxurious are not as
bright as the wisdom
I've earned, like learning
to be worriless. Wars waged
and battles braved, I've
swallowed my pride.
Release the rebel and
silence survives.

I filled in
the chip on my shoulder,
and prevented it from
becoming a boulder.
And matter of fact,
I've no monkeys at
my back. It's bananas
to think I used to let
them attack.