Trestle

Shadow blue-sky drapes

Life has contorted me

Into tripod figure shapes

Part of me is weathered

Part of me is rusted out

Part of me is overstressed

I reach out, but can’t touch the clouds

On some days, I feel the sun’s warmth

I can feel a rumble on the far horizon

Transient change is coming again

Like unexpected season changes

I can only take so much weight

I’ll grin and bear it as I always have

Freight passes under…a bruised moon

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Shiftage

I’ve felt the fractures before

But this shiftage is still worse

I never understood real pain, until now

Your memories are not villainous

But they do intensify your loss

Now life itself divides the two of us

I tried to break outside of myself

To no avail, assuming that was going to help

But I was wrong, and nothing has changed

Part of me feels left behind, part within a dense fog

Pieces of me are missing or somewhere else

While I walk in a shadow of myself

Uncertain as what to do or where to go now

Yet, appear steady without…real fallout

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Quiddity

Something internally churns

Telling me this entity of fogginess

Is an unexperienced life of unknowns

A thing that has evaded my old existence

It smells foreign and feels so uncommon

Yet, it beholds a strange welcoming

Part of me wonders if it’s true freedom

Freedom to be myself, to choose, and love

I had always been tethered to a duty

As if it were my only sense of identity

But all my reins have been stripped off

My necessary obligations routed

Strangely, I am a stranger to myself

Perhaps this fog was always… me?

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Utterness

I learned about cruelty

And the many faces it wore

Long before I ever felt love

I learned to forgive anyway

Before I ever felt love’s touch

I was somehow spared

By a merciful act of divinity

That let me break silently

Somehow, I knew to let go

When I really wanted to hold on

Be it passion or wishful thinking

I’ve created more than others can imagine

I live and breathe with a poet’s heart

At times broken but… eternally scarred

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Ambiguity

True shallowness by a cultivation

Where some illusory truth is false

The word “sometimes” is often not

Naturally adopted for discussions

Is like crumbs used for a meatloaf

Where some stuff is not real meat

If- meat extract enhances morsels

Essential to the recipe, we accept

“Sometimes” is a loophole escape

We proffer as a thing as universal

In deeper discussions, it’s a fallacy

This may lead to general mistakes

Listeners lack when to implement

“Sometimes” poisons… inference

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Artic

Living life in darker circles

I feel so clumsy when I wanna talk

But my emotions smoother all my words

And I’m out of sync when I walk

I’m left abandoned here- by myself

I’d hate you if I could, but I don’t know how

You blame me for everything under the sun

You shame me for everything I haven’t done

I’ve realized now you pretend to love me

But in reality, you’ve never felt that feeling

Seems too impossible to be true

But my depiction epitomizes you

Sometimes breathing hurts the worst

You take back everything but… your scars

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Ancillary

Life feels more of a sleepwalk

Through time and this universe

In a sort of stalled continuum

Now life happenings seem inferior

With people I provided for as primary

I’m a subset of myself but not theirs

An insignificant party within reality

As reality alters its own predication

Recalls and scars serve as anecdotal evidence

That seems personally and unjustly ignored

In the same fashion tornados are

If- they’re outside your observations

Tentatively, I subsist as a cast shadow

Absent my former… existence

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Clairity

They think I’m at war with them

Or I’m choosing to be distant

But in reality, I’m being authentic

Truer to my pursuit of happiness

They struggle with my newer version

Find it confusing or a bit unsettling

They feel I’m becoming an outsider

And antagonistic to their normalcy

They realize they can’t influence me

Nor intimidate my chosen editions

But attempt to ingratiate themselves

Finding me less receptive to the ploys

I no longer feed fodder to narcissists

I’m not being selfish…nor a servant

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Purposive

I defy adverse advice of the maven

Expressing concern over my interest

They misuse like fraudulent currency

Names and wisdom of beloved lost

Like snake salesmen and false healers

Then prattle about my need to forget

And move on like a dark night does

Act until I’ve replaced the irreplaceable

And fill the void with new distractions

Shake the weight of precious memories off

Like clinging raindrops on a damp coat

I’m antithetical to such dishonest drivel

That only fills the void of hollow egos

And enrich their investment… for oneself

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Buttress

Vitiations became too great of a toll

To pay for your corrupt affirmation

Souls can only fissure so many times

Before time itself is too heavy a load

Time and you became too unbearable

I felt guilty unable to freight such cost

That a relationship with you requires

In time, my hope remorse evaporates

To leave me its sense of peace behind

Only time will tell me if it decreases

The older we beget the heavier is life

From microseconds to piled-up years

Our strides shorten and we rest more

We love deeper but live life… shorter

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