Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by BelovedDreamer, Apr 24, 2007.

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  1. BelovedDreamer

    BelovedDreamer Well-Known Member

    I don’t quite know what to say.
    Life has this documentary feel.
    Like a life
    but once removed.
    The editor
    leaving something to be wanted.
    There is this feeling
    I see gentleness unremarked
    but cannot touch it
    glass between me and the thing I crave.
    My fingers make moist dimples
    on its surface
    which evaporate in seconds.
    I isolate my self in remorse
    and obsession.
    I will not apologize
    but I cannot walk away
    stuck in a repeating circle
    of self-recrimination
    and uncertainty
    of repentance
    and false observance.
    My body revolts
    curls up tightly
    an expression of the exhaustion
    my mind cannot articulate.
    mornings get harder.
    I know that the things
    that I have wanted
    have been small and
    barely more than a beginning
    but my stubbornness
    and my hamster-like
    in-the-moment enshrouded quality
    refuse to let me believe
    that there is any want
    beyond the want I have now
    any need beyond
    that need which I have already felt.
    Consumed by myself
    by inventions I have myself created
    I cannot live beyond this moment
    and instances
    of no note
    or of a different tune from
    the symphony I heard
    that have long since
    and should long ago
    have been laid to rest.
    The others who were there
    have cremated them I am
    relatively sure
    certainly I am the only one
    who still thinks over
    an American Beauty
    overstudied instant
    a hand fussing determinedly
    over a shoe
    eyes staring frustratedly at a phone
    mist falling quietly through a porch light
    fingers twirling the mechanism
    of a wind-up toy.
    Pointless moments
    their import known only to me
    and even I rightly doubting
    their consequence.
    Significance being
    an utterly relative notion.
    I have grown too used to the
    interior of my skull
    trapping myself
    involuntarily voluntarily
    trapping myself in
    in an Anne Frank hideaway
    made of surprisingly strong
  2. theleastofthese

    theleastofthese SF Friend Staff Alumni

    Another masterpiece!:eek:hmy: YOu have such talent with language. Beautiful, my dear, just beautiful.:smile:


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