On supported grounds we lose our footing Angling and dangling towards the unknown Waters below blue and black Like bruises we can’t quite place. Temptations to hold hands, Reassuringly embrace; pull her back to safety. Resistance of time, and love. There is no momentum when gears stick Just a simple necessity of lubrication Risk, develop, shine. Properly oiled machines Weight of the world on our shoulders. Mechanical creatures, Powerful feats of engineering, No longer Puppets, always Puppeteers. Dance, cry, love, fuck Never devoid of choice. Elements in our grasp forming a whole Living, breathing, dying. Bearings. Find, Use Or Fall.
Occasionally when floating on my boat of dreams, I become aware of the nebulous sea of regret rippling under my vessel. Am I living in a constant state of denial, Or am I simply appreciative of better times?
Occasionally my smile crisps itself into a stone line, And my thoughts race back to another side of my mortal reality. Am I just another memory to one of my memories, Or am I flesh and bone that can be touched?
Occasionally I hear the pitter patter of the rain on a tin roof, And it brings me back to a long ago place I once knew. Am I sure the sensory appreciation is real, Or am I simply a projection of a non-existent former self?
Occasionally I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, And it seeps down into my hidden soul. Am I truly awake and aware of my existence, Or am I merely dreaming…
This is a non-erotic poem, written in February of 2017.
emerging from the clouds the energy boy peers below the clear layers of existence, tiny hearts beating he understands why others break the rule to observe to document don't do it, they say never shifting yet here he stands, frenetic scribbling desperately deciphering their erratic thoughts and unnerving actions he cries, remembering how it felt to be human