jaybeasley2

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

our relationship is
fugacious and overwhelming,
a rollercoaster while blindfolded.
under the water is where the
tips of my toes were but you
don’t have to tell me, I need to warm
up for the hike back, and since this
is our last time together here, under
the mossy tree of awesomeness in the
forest of our little vacation,
but
now I can visit the rooftops
without you, leave my present to
our past, and lay on a cloud when
you put your legs on my lap, but don’t
bother to wait a year before you
pick up the phone and talk to me,
because
I am progressing, and I do
not stay like a dog might
do, I wander lightning, I drink
rain, I eat poison, I sleep
honey, I speak impressionism…
I correlate existences

constructing the
words
that this is
watching a wish slide on by
and seeing pitting groups waiting
two heads turning like
dogs observing out of habit
single people who stare
so intently at their devices
trying to settle in the
spaces between each other
and paperwork stapled to the wall
shift in the wind of people walking by
wanting some entertainment
to make there by a passing of time
and no place is comfortable
when you are forced to be there

I am aware
of how much I love you, and to ask you to let me show
you how much seems just as silly as
asking you to make, and work on,
these improvements that I have been thinking
would help things along; you have to be a
bit awake to how
I am just sitting around,
longing for the moments I may get
to show you this adoration whenever you
get a patient second to just be.
and…
first page I find
got some paper in it
and I need a cab
and I want a meal ticket
with no place to go
no friends with which
to roam
not a reason to
be anything but alone
finally at last
a reason to
remember
home sweet home