Sometimes-Writing

        James Smith remembered being young, hearing of men and women who had fallen into the trap of “careers”; confined within the steel bars of their own lives. He also remembered promising himself, “That will not be me.”        James lied.        He found himself choking down his own sour-tainted words for the past 20 or so years. The memory of his past promises always tended to revoke a vehement, guilt-ridden nausea. Today, he sat at his company-assigned desk, stabbing his fingers into the keyboard; the monotonous clacking sounding to him like small, bouncing birds picking through crumbs on the sidewalk. “A

She retains love like a child playing Stubbornly through Winter’s chill Running gleefully on numb thighs Laughing until their bodies glow Exhaling embers against a shock of white She’s the throaty chuckle Everyone’s memorized for the Hell of it Because our inside jokes could stoke a fire Prodding and churning flames against Those who bite at our fingers As she ever thrives through the years We are all hugged by her like a scarf When frost cakes in our lungs And our breath curls like chimney smoke

The language of Love sounds foreign Like a numb tongue in a heavy skull From the Lakes of Noise was I bourne A well-intended ship with a hollow hull A pretender amongst the sailors I thrust out roses with a brash hand But my clumsy language gives way to failures For the speech that is Love I do not understand I am but a dinghy, made of bones and flesh So flawed from its original design That the game of romance and my sails do not mesh So from these turbulent seas do I resign For who could cradle affection for an Imp, Who does not know the proper words? Who cannot run, but only limp With this truly well-intended verse

Your soul is loud It peeks like starlight From the canopy of darkness Waves of surging lava Warm the pulsating hearts Of the priests and saints Down below Elegance like the dust of galaxies Looming planets gravitate Towards your soul Your smile is a shout That us mere creatures Can only bellow a song to In return In a permanent reverence

Not merely a cloud But a weapon Foggy with moisture That freezes and cakes In your lungs They'll stop your heartbeat If you dare to get close Enough to their lips Not merely a cloud But a weapon They carry knives in their fingers Carving through the porcelain Engraved on their skin Not merely a cloud But a weapon More than a brief inhale And a dangerous exhale Let's watch the light They'll create With the lightening In their sharp soul Step back And hold on

The house speaks Without saying words                      We can't leave I haven't had a breath Of fresh air in months                      We don't need it It lives in the walls Tells me stories Through the vents                      Of your noose                      It'll sure look pretty I can't remember If my family doesn't visit Or if I never had one To begin with                      It's just us I have dwelt in this house                      I have haunted these halls For 13  years         For 300 years And I swear           And I promise        *creeeaaakkkkk* I've closed more doors Than I've opened                    

It can't happen At least not tonight Like a short burst of light The stars all ignite Under my skin I can't sin Not on a night full of peace In the Keys My car's been turned around And I've found A sunset that melts Against the rocks And I'm sinching my belt No one will ever make me talk Maybe I can ride this wave And just maybe This one won't crash on the shore Like every time before By either bravery Or sheer stupidity, I've reached a temporary lucidity It just can't happen At least not tonight I will fight

Weightless I am weightless Entering a dimension Of silence And deep green algae I have crossed the border That the dogs cannot follow And for one moment I can breathe Isn't that silly? My best gulp of relief Was taken while holding my breath And reaching out Towards darting schools of fish I close my eyes I am weightless

April 2nd, 7:21 a.m. "Today's going to be different," She believed She had studied the material Gone over the quizzes And the teacher called her lazy For arriving late again April 7th, 12:06 p.m. "Today's going to be different," She told herself 'It gets better' Won't sound like empty words today She hid her scars well April 8th, 11:45 a.m. "Today's going to be different," She droned White static hissed across her thoughts She had failed her math test April 9th, 8:54 a.m. "Today's going to be different," That's laughable She does not reach out With anything other than eye-contact Isolation rots her soul April 12th, 2:37 p.m. "Tonight

The taste of cigars That's what her tongue held for me Dissociation