jaybeasley2

hhmmmm.
the tabletop.
so from left to right, it is all
sentimental. First there is the words on
newspaper that combat boredom. yawn.
then, salt and pepper that attacks my lunch.
next, a drink of energy and purple, of berry
and bubbles that make my night effectible.
I really only get those because you made me
appreciate how much they can help a grey-
silver mid-dawn become less exhausting.
After that, a pad of paper and a pen, for the time
when I could be struck by inspiration.
Beside that a strong drink and a weak
drink, a yin-yang of my dimension, currently;
and accompanied by a nice cold water, the
reason for which is the reason you are so
much to me, a specific healthy choice identified.
the hat sitting there is not as easy to
overlook, mostly ’cause it is the only
so soft item I brought back from where
you live.
Last, a bit of technology
I can only hope and pray that
you use to contact me today,
for this was a rough one,
trust me.

The last day will be the end
of the month, on that midnight.
My bandages still have blood
on them, but don’t you worry, I will
be out of your way shortly.
And, actually, there is a lot of
pain to avoid if I don’t remain here
in your room, at all.
This could be the worst news
to deliver, but I have to face the
idea that discomfort can mean growth; the
trees will cover my escape from this
maze of indiscreet personal motivations. you
could flee with me, but it will drag you
back in if you let it. like tentacles of
less friendly aura that squid you into the
vortex, these places you have visited
are already tainted; yet the walls of red
and grey were already that color when we
got there long ago.
both of your eyes will close
when you are done fighting for how worn
out you were and no matter what
happens, I know you will not
be alone…

owe the night nothing, and let it know.
many types and kinds of energies
and auras have crossed paths with our
motivations tonight, and it seems with me
are awash with the tides of this evenings
social stage. if I get to be the one
who doesn’t feel the anchor, then I
may hope you reel me in sometime before
I lose my place at dawn…
but relying on anyone is
rarely my way; I had hoped for your
concern to remind me that someone
cares, like leaving a light on after dark
when you know someone is coming home…
while we return to the
complicated type discussion that will
persevere, we are like the first nude
pictures that anyone gets taken,
aware but shy, a white room with
far
too
much
light
and
not
enough
smiling
friends…

wondering where I came from,
are you? there were plenty of hours to
ask me, but you were too busy
answering the questions that I had
given (as if that made sense) and I
only showed you my soft side because I
knew how worthless it was to you.
if I had told you everything, where would
you be now? either on top of the
altar with the full spread eagle, cut
clean open from top to toes, and only
a few seconds to realize the overture;
or, even worse, glassy-eyed and believing
that the robe and dagger was once
yours and would be all the way until
you were chosen to see the hidden path
to the inner circle. how in this place
could you ever have known that the
only reason you were still here was
to be a tool to be used, and this
was an ends to a means more than it
ever was a extended olive branch